Alphabet Soup
by 0equilibrium0
Summary: We're too different, too far apart. We shouldn't be able to make this work, but somehow, we do. PruCan.
1. Chapter 1

These aren't necessarily connected, or even in any sort of logical order. So… yeah…  
Disclaimer: I do not own APH.

**A** is for:  
_alone_

_He's late._ Matthew frowned at the door. _He… he probably forgot._ Matt pulled his legs to his chest. "But at least I still have you, right, Kumaluka?"

The bear looked at him absently. "Who?"

"I'm Canada, your—you know what? Never mind. Just… never mind."

Kumajirou wandered away, probably toward the kitchen.

_I bet the ungrateful thing's hungry, _Matt thought irritably. _I don't care. He can just starve._

He rested his forehead on his knees. _It's been an hour already. He's not going to come, is he?_ _Apparently I'm not as memorable as he claims._

His doorbell rang, the sound harsh and annoying. "Go away, Al."

The response was muffled by distance and brick, but neither the voice nor the accent was Alfred's. The resounding click of the door being unlocked reached Matt's ears, followed shortly by the sound of it being slammed.

"Mattie!" Gilbert's voice echoed down the hallway. "I'm sorry I'm late; West locked me in my room and blocked the window. It took forever to convince Feli to let me out."

"What did you do to make him do that?" Matt asked, pretending he hadn't just been at the verge of tears.

"Well, I'm not exactly sure. He was saying something when he locked the door, but I was yelling at him too loudly to hear." He smiled sheepishly, plopping himself down on the couch next to Mattie.

Matthew leaned against his arm. "Why am I not surprised?"

_adamant_

"No."

"_Please_?"

"No."

"C'mon, Mattie, pretty, pretty please?"

"For the last time, Gilbert, I am not letting you drink straight maple syrup for breakfast."

_abstain_

"G-Gilbert! Quit that!" Matt yelped, half-heartedly pushing the albino away.

"Aw, Mattie, don't be a tease." Gil murmured in Matt's ear, voice deliberately husky.

"I am not being a tease! We are guests at my brother's house. If we… continued, I would never be able to look Al in the eyes again!" Matthew insisted.

"Fine." Gil pouted.

"But we can still cuddle," Matt conceded, tucking his head under Gilbert's chin.

_awkward_

"Um, Al, you've met Gilbert before, right?" Matthew fidgeted under his brother's unusually intense scrutiny.

"Yeah, a couple times. You're that guy that goes out drinking with Antonio and Francis a lot, aren't you?"

"That's me." Gil shuffled his feet anxiously, wishing he could dissolve into the floor.

"So what's this about?" Alfred fixed his gaze on his guilty-looking brother.

"I guess I should formally introduce you, then. Gilbert, this is my brother Alfred, the United States of America. Alfred, this is Gilbert, formerly the Kingdom of Prussia. My…my… my boy… friend."

..

First chapter done! Each letter is going to have four-ish words. Please review! ChiCho out!


	2. Chapter 2

**B** is for:  
_bruise_

Matthew ran his hands down Gil's chest, unbuttoning his shirt as he did so. He sat back to admire his lover, but froze. "Gil… what happened…" He traced his fingers over the array of blues, violets, maroons, faint yellows.

Gilbert looked away. "It's nothing. I'm fine. I was rough-housing with West earlier, and I guess, I just forget sometimes, that I bruise easier than I used to."

_bother_

_Click. Click. Click. Click._

Matthew sighed, listening to the sound of Gilbert's fingernails hitting the tabletop. _Maybe if I ignore him he'll quit._

_Click. Click. Click. Click._

"Gilbert!" The albino jumped, startled out of his absent fidgeting. Matt dug a pair of nail clippers from the glass jar on the table and shoved them into Gil's hand. "Here."

Gil shrugged, and clipped his nails, deciding that Birdie probably didn't want him to leave marks on the table. Or on his skin.

_Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump._

Pinching the bridge of his nose as he listened to Gil tapping his fingertips against the table, Matt came to the conclusion that he should just leave well enough alone.

_bear_

"Mattie! Don't go in there!" Gilbert yelped.

"What? Why not?"

"There's a bear!"

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "You mean Kumamiku?"

"No, no, not Kumajirou, I made sure I got him out. There is a real live, honest-to-god _grizzly bear_ in your house."

"A grizzly bear. In my house." Gilbert nodded. Matt rolled his eyes and opened the door.

And then closed it again as fast as he could.

"Who are you calling?"

Matt ignored Gilbert, instead speaking to the person on the receiving end of the phone call. "Hello, Switzerland? Can I borrow your gun?"

_before_

"Hey Birdie. Watcha doing?" Gil draped an arm around Matthew's shoulders, startling him.

"Nothing much. Just thinking. Reminiscing, I guess." Gilbert looked at him curiously, so Matt continued. "I was remembering when, no matter what I said, or how loudly I tried to say it, no one, not even Al half the time, heard. It was… lonely…" He let himself trail off.

Gil grinned at him. "Aw, but that was before you met me, right?"

"Yeah." Matt laughed slightly and let himself get pulled closer to Gilbert's side. "Before I met you."

..

And that's chapter two! But don't be expecting any more daily updates, I just already had this started. Please review! ChiCho out!


	3. Chapter 3

**C **is for:

_convenience_

Matt yawned. "Gil…bert? How did you get in?" He mumbled.

"I picked the lock." He said it without a trace of shame.

"What do you want at…" Matthew squinted at his clock, barely making out the numbers without his glasses, "…three in the morning?"

"Pancakes."

"I am not making you pancakes so early." Intending that to be the end of the conversation, Matthew pulled his blanket to his chin and closed his eyes, hoping Gil could take a hint.

He couldn't. "Pretty please?" Matt continued to ignore him. "Fine then, be that way." He began to leave, but then remembered the reason he was there in the first place: Feli had shown up around one-ish, and West had kicked him out with the express order to not return until the weekend. It was Thursday.

"Um, Mattie?" Matt, who had managed to doze off, scowled at the albino shaking his shoulder. "Can I stay here for a while?"

"Yeah, sure. The guest room's down the… what do you think you're doing?"

"Sleeping with you." Matthew blushed. Gilbert snickered, realizing the unintended innuendo. "Sleeping _next to_ you. Is that better?" He asked, making himself comfortable on Matt's bed.

Matthew started to roll his eyes, but changed it to a rather undignified yelp when Gilbert's hands came into contact with his skin. "You're freezing!"

"Eh. I was outside for a while. You've got a really good security system. If I was anyone but my awesome self, I probably would've given up." Gil inched closer, most-likely-frost-bitten fingertips digging into Matthew's ribs. "What are you doing?"

The blue glow from his phone washed over Matt's face. "Making myself a reminder to get you a key."

_cook_

Gil smiled. Mattie was standing in front of the counter, humming to himself. He had yet to notice Gilbert, who had snuck in through a window with the intention of startling him.

He crept up behind Birdie, bare feet silent on the linoleum floor. "Ich möchte mit Ihnen über meinen Bruder sprechen." He growled, voice pitched in a perfect imitation of his brother's.

Matthew jumped. "Germany! What are you—Gilbert! That is not funny!" He smacked Gil's arm. "Don't you have anything better you should be doing?"

"Nope." Gil smirked at him. "So what were you doing before I awed you with my awesome impersonation of Bruder?"

"I was _trying_ to cook."

_close_

Matt propped his feet up on the table, mug of coffee (Alfred was rubbing off on him) in one hand, remote in the other, fully prepared for a day of leisure time.

That was when Gilbert appeared out of nowhere and collapsed onto the couch next to him. Matthew frowned at him suspiciously. "How did you get here? Wasn't your car impounded?"

Gil laughed. "I had West drop me off."

Ludwig, about to drive away, hazarded a glance in Matthew's window. It was rude, he knew, but he really couldn't help himself. He smiled slightly, deciding that, when East finally came stumbling home, he wouldn't comment on how close together he and Matthew were sitting.

_clueless_

Gilbert wrapped his arms around Mattie's waist, rested his chin on his shoulder. "Ich liebe dich."

Matthew chuckled. "You do realize that I have no clue what you just said, right?"

"S'okay. I might tell you later."

"'Might'?"

"Yeah. If you ever say it back."

Matt sighed. Gilbert made no sense sometimes.

..

Ich möchte mit Ihnen über meinen Bruder sprechen- I'd like to speak with you about my brother.  
Ich liebe dich -I love you.  
Sorry for uploading this twice, but Stormy-chan59 corrected my German. And considering that s/he is German, I think I'll take his/her word for it.

The end was a little mushy. So shoot me.  
Did this chapter seem a little sibling-heavy? I think it does… must have Bunny on the brain. Which makes no sense if you don't know that everyone calls my little sister Bunny.


	4. Chapter 4

**D **is for:

_dance_

"G… Gilbert… what are you doing?"

"Dancing."

"That's not dancing."

"According to Francis it is."

_dunk_

Matt floated on his back, eyes closed, enjoying the warm summer day and the buoyancy of the pool. He was glad he'd let Gil talk him into buying it.

With a slight giggle, Gilbert swam up next to Matthew's head, trying to disturb the water as little as possible. He was about to push him under when Matt did something unexpected: He dove, disappearing from Gilbert's view.

Popping up behind Gil, Matt decided to get some preemptive revenge. He grabbed Gil's shoulders and promptly dunked him.

_dark_

Squinting, Matthew propped himself up on his elbows. "Gil? What's with the candle?"

"The power went out." Gilbert explained, slipping back into bed next to Matt, candle placed safely on a table.

"Yeah, so? It went out hours ago. Why do we need a candle? It's the middle of the night."

"I…" Was Gilbert blushing, or was it just a trick of the light? "I didn't get a chance to write in my diary. I try to write something every day before I go to bed, but I was," he waggled his eyebrows, "_busy_ earlier. For that matter, so were you."

Matt frowned at him, too asleep to catch the innuendo. "That doesn't explain the candle."

Gil sighed and ruffled Matthew's hair. "It's hard to write in the dark."

_disappear_

"Gil."

No response.

"Gilbert."

Still nothing.

"_Gilbert._"

Said albino jumped, nearly dropping the camera held in his pale hands. "Yeah?"

"You've been attached to that camera for nearly a week. Why are you taking so many pictures?" Matt watched with fascination Gilbert fidgeted in what seemed to be an embarrassed manner.

"Well, no one ever seems to notice you, and I got to thinking that no one would know the difference if you just up and disappeared, and then I had a dream that you _did _disappear, and I was the only one that remembered you, and, and…" Gilbert looked at his feet, expecting Matthew to make fun of him.

"Oh. Well. When you put it that way, it's kind of… sweet."

_deserve_

Matt watched in confusion as Gilbert darted around the kitchen, seemingly every appliance in use. Seeing him crack two eggs into a blender, along with a handful of other ingredients, Matthew decided to with hold comment and just observe.

A decision Gilbert was rather glad he made. It was hard enough to concentrate on cooking when Birdie was sitting there wearing a pair of maple leaf boxers and nothing else without having him hovering over his shoulder.

But eventually, Matt had to ask.

"What are you making?"

Gilbert, muttering to himself in German, appeared not to have heard.

Matthew didn't press the issue, because if Gil was talking to himself, it usually meant he was trying to concentrate. And the last time Gil got distracted while trying to cook, Mattie had to have his kitchen remodeled.

Finally, Gilbert triumphantly set down a plate in front of Matt. It contained a stack of pancakes, some sausage, and what appeared to be a homemade bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit. It smelled delicious. "This looks really good, Gil. What's the occasion?"

Gilbert kissed the top of his head. "No occasion. Can't I just make you breakfast for no reason? After all, it's the least you deserve."

..

At first, this chapter seemed too short, so I added _deserve_. It's still not as long as Chapter C, but *shrugs*  
Oh, and by the way, _dance_ was inspired by 'Disko Deutsch' by candy4yourEYEZ. And the bacon-egg-n-cheese thing? My mom made that as football snacks for my dad last weekend and they were INCREDIBLE. I know I said I wouldn't update daily… I am such a liar. ChiCho out!


	5. Chapter 5

**E** is for:

_egg_

Black hood pulled up to cover his face, arms full of cardboard cartons, nineteen year old Gilbert Beilschmidt snuck into the backyard of the not-so-friendly neighborhood crazy guy, Ivan Braginsky. Following meekly behind him was a rather nervous seventeen year old by the name of Matthew Williams.

"Gil," Matt tugged lightly at his partner-in-crime's sleeve. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"What are you talking about? This is an awesome idea!" Gilbert grinned, shifting the gray containers.

"Ivan'll kill us if he catches us!" Matt insisted. "We should just go back."

"Okay, one, we won't get caught. I'm too awesome for that that. And two, even if we do get caught, which we won't, Ivan won't kill us. I'm too awesome for that."

Matt frowned slightly. "There's no talking you out of this, is there?"

"Nope. We're going to egg Ivan's house."

_eloquent_

A loud crash echoed down the hallway. Matt looked up from his paperwork to frown in the general direction the noise had come from. There was silence for a moment, and then the muffled sound of something large and heavy landing on something that gave. Something like a person.

Gilbert's voice rang through the large house. "Shit! Damn it all! Fuckfuck_fuck!_"

Matthew sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose. "As eloquent as always."

_energetic_

Matt bounced on the heels of his feet, beaming like a kid in a candy shop. Gil stared at him, completely and utterly confused. "Um, hey, Mattie. Morning."

"Hiya Gil!"

"…Is there…something wrong with you…?"

"Nope!" Matt grinned at him, all teeth and dimples and shining eyes.

"You sure?"

"Yep!"

"So then, is there a reason you're so… energetic today?" Gil asked, not quite sure he wanted to know.

"I'm energetic?" He giggled. "I hadn't noticed!"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously! And I don't know why I would be. I haven't done anything different than usual. Well, Al came over this morning, but he does that sometimes, so it's not _different_, but it was a little unexpected."

"Alfred came over? Did he give you anything? Like coffee? Or crack?"

Mattie shook his head violently. "We just argued about Pop-Tarts."

Alfred, crouching behind a bush, snickered. Matt was just too funny when he drank Red Bull. Although he wasn't sure if it counted as drinking it when it was slipped into his pancake batter.

_empty_

"Hey, Birdie," Gil whined. "I'm hungry."

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "Eat something."

"I don't wanna get up." Gil was sprawled across Matt's couch.

"You want me to get you something."

"Pretty please?" Gil attempted puppy dog eyes. Key word being 'attempted'.

Matt just shook his head and wriggled down further in his squishy chair.

"Aw, come on Mattie, please?" The re-tried puppy dog eyes re-failed. "Fine, if you're gonna be stubborn." Gilbert laboriously pulled himself to his feet. "I hope you don't want anything, 'cause even if you did, I wouldn't get it for you."

Matt rolled his eyes at Gilbert's childishness.

"Mattie! Your fridge! It's empty! Why is it empty?"

"You should know, Gil, you're the one that ate everything."

_egotistical_

"… and then I awesomely kicked that wimp Austria's ass!" Gilbert always enjoyed recounting tales of his history, and Matthew always enjoyed listening. "Hey Birdie, how come you never tell me stories about your wars?"

"Because I'm not as proud of them as you seem to be." Matthew explained. "I've never seen war as something to brag about."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm not as much of an egotist as you, apparently."

"But I'm your egotist, right Birdie?" The question didn't have the same teasing air its kind usually did. Gilbert sounded almost serious.

Matt laughed softly. "Of course you are." He snuggled against the albino, who smiled into his hair.

There was a peaceful, momentary eternity of silence before Gilbert spoke again. "Hey, Matt… I was just wondering… why… why do you put up with me? I'm loud, I drink too much, I'm full of myself, my friends can never remember who you are… Do I really have to continue?"

"I put up with you because it's never quiet when you're around, you're always willing to have a drink with me, I rarely have to worry about your self-esteem, and your friends are Francis, who helped raise me, and Antonio, who, when he remembers me, is nice. Do _I_ really have to continue?" Gilbert's face turned an interesting shade of red, and he refused to look Matt in the eyes.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Doubting myself like that is definitely not awesome!" Matthew smiled, glad that Gil was back to normal.

It wasn't until the next day that Matt realized that it had been the anniversary of the date of Prussia's dissolution.

..

This chapter is pretty long… The fourth drabble-thing, _empty_, was inspired by those copy-and-paste lists comparing good friend to best friend: _A good friend won't ask you for food. A best friend is the reason your fridge is empty._ The last one was a bit more angsty than I usually write for this story. And I don't usually write AU, but _egg_ just worked out best that way. ChiCho out!


	6. Chapter 6

**F** is for:

_fever_

Gilbert thrashed in bed, blankets tangled around him, pale skin flushed an unhealthy red. He stilled when Matthew put his hand on his forehead, the skin clammy and hot.

Matthew bit his lip, and pushed Gilbert's hair back from his face. "Sleep, mon amour. I'm right here beside you."

_fall_

Matt hummed to himself as he stood back to admire the pile of leaves in his backyard. He always got a sort of accomplished feeling from successfully neatening his yard. The feeling rarely lasted long.

"WAHOOO!" Matt winced at the sound of Gil's hollering, knowing what it preceded. Gilbert launched himself from the nearest tree, aimed directly at Matt and the leaf pile behind him. He tackled Matthew, and they both crashed to the ground in a heap.

Quickly catching his breath, Matt tried to wiggle out from underneath Gilbert, who was laughing too hard to notice. He had almost managed to escape when it clicked in Gilbert's brain that Mattie was trying to get away. Gil cackled, wrapping his arms around Matt's waist. "I don't think so, Birdie," he sing-songed, voice muffled due to the fact that his face was pressed into Matthew's stomach.

Matt stopped squirming, suddenly aware of just how much awkward-potential the situation had. He could feel Gil's mouth quirk into a smile.

"Hey Birdie," Gil paused for a moment to giggle, which felt decidedly weird to Matt, "are you ticklish?"

"Wha—hey! G-Gil!" Matt shrieked as Gilbert attacked his sides. Gil howled with laughter, and Mattie managed to bring his legs up and use them to push the still-cackling albino away. Gil's landing created a cloud of leaves, much to Mattie's dismay.

"Killjoy." Gilbert muttered, but he was smiling. He watched as Matt crawled across what was once a neat pile to pick up a leaf.

Matthew beamed as he held up his prize next Gilbert's face. "It's the same color as your eyes." Gil refused to believe that he blushed, despite the fact that he could feel his cheeks heating up.

"If you say so."

_fate_

"This is kind of a strange question, but… just how exactly did we get together?" Matthew wondered aloud, lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"That's a pretty good question." Gil had his legs draped across Matt's, feet just barely hanging off the edge.

"The first time we met was when I gave you that maple syrup." Matt remembered.

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure we were both drunk the first time we made out." Gil added.

Matt laughed quietly. "I can barely remember that. Remind me to never drink vodka again."

"Done."

"I guess it must have been fate, then." Matthew smiled at the ridiculousness of his own statement.

"Yup. Musta been fate." Gil agreed.

_fish_

"Birdie? Are we almost there?" Gilbert asked, resisting the urge to rip off his blindfold.

"It's just a little further." Matt assured him, hand at the small of his companion's back.

The ground beneath Gil's feet was getting squishy. _Mud? It hasn't rained recently. Are we near water?_

"Alright, stop. We're here." Matt untied the scarf over Gil's eyes, pretending he didn't use it as an excuse to run his fingers through snowy hair.

Gilbert looked around. They were standing in front of a lazy river that seemed to stretch endlessly in either direction. A duck, completely unconcerned by the arrival of two humans, floated aimlessly. Dragonflies skittered across the water's surface.

"Well?" Mattie prompted. "What do you think?"

"It's nice. It's _really_ nice." Gilbert let his eyes wander to the blond beside him. "How did you manage to hide this from me for so long?"

Matt laughed. "I wasn't hiding it, per se. I just never got a chance to show it to you before now."

"I guess I'll believe that. So what are we here for, anyway?"

"I was hoping we could have a picnic, and then maybe," Matt rummaged through the backpack he'd been wearing, "go fishing." He finished, revealing two fold-out fishing poles and a tackle box.

"Fishing?" Gilbert asked dumbly, more interested in the curve of Mattie's ass when he bent over to dig out their lunch than he was in any fish.

"Have you ever been before?" Matt righted himself, picnic basket in his arms.

"Huh?"

Matt giggled. "I asked you if you'd ever gone fishing before."

"Oh. Um, no, can't say I have." It took an extreme force of will for Gilbert to pull his gaze away from the way the sun made Mattie's skin shine.

Matt dropped into the grass, grabbing Gilbert's hand on the way down. "I'll show you how later. For now, let's just eat."

"Kay." Gilbert sat down, but left their fingers intertwined.

..

Mon amour-my love. If that's wrong, please correct me.  
PASTAAA~ That's what I had for dinner! It was really good, too.  
I don't know if fold-out fishing poles exist in real life, but they do in my head, and that's good enough. I expected to be able to write two chapters today, or at least get this one finished earlier than usual, considering that I'd have the computer all day instead of just a few hours after school. No such luck. But I hope you liked it anyway! ChiCho out!


	7. Chapter 7

**G** is for:

_gamble_

"Gilbert, is that a lotto ticket?" Gilbert jumped guiltily.

"Um, no." He shoved the green paper into his pocket.

"Then what's this?" Matthew held up a receipt. For a lottery ticket.

Gilbert laughed nervously. "A piece of paper?"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "A piece of paper with your fate written on it." He plucked the ticket from Gilbert's pocket. "I don't really mind, you know." He examined it. "You won, by the way."

"Really? Oh." Gilbert had won a whole two dollars.

_glamour_

"Do you ever miss it?" Matt continued running his fingers through Gilbert's hair, as if he hadn't just asked a confusing question.

"Miss what?" Gil looked up, but didn't move his head from its rather comfortable position in Mattie's lap.

"Being, being your own country. I mean, doesn't it ever bother you, just representing half of a whole, after so long on your own?"

"Well, yeah, sometimes. Not very often. It was glamorous, sure, but it's nice to just be my own person."

"Yeah, I guess it would be."

_grow_

Gilbert glared fervently at his newest enemy. Said enemy didn't react, simply sitting as still as it had all that day. And the day before that. And the one before that. In fact, the only time it had moved was when Kumajirou had bumped into its pot and nearly knocked it from the windowsill.

"Are you trying to intimidate the cactus again, Gil?" Mattie put his hands on Gilbert's shoulders. "It's not going to work. I don't think it's possible to scare plants."

"The awesome me can do anything." Gil insisted, continuing to send death rays toward the unsuspecting succulent.

"It makes some people happy to watch things grow." Matt pointed out. "I happen to be one of those people."

That was all well and good in Gilbert's mind, but Matt's attention had been focused on the cactus and _only_ the cactus ever since he had brought the cursed thing home.

Not that Gilbert was jealous, or anything like that. Not at all.

_glow_

Matt smiled. He would probably never tell him so, but Gilbert was beautiful when he was asleep. The moonlight turned his hair silver, and made his skin seem to glow. His eyelashes would cast faint shadows over his cheeks, and he nearly always looked peaceful, calmer than he ever was when awake.

"Mm. Liebling." Gilbert mumbled, nuzzling into Mattie's neck.

..

And that's a wrap. Short chapter is fail.  
Liebling-Darling. Please correct me if I'm wrong. ChiCho out.


	8. Chapter 8

**H **is for:

_holy_

Gilbert yawned, stretching his arms over his head as he reluctantly pulled himself out of bed. "Morning, Mattie." Matt, who had already gotten up and showered, 'hmm'ed absently as he continued brushing his hair.

Knowing he had gotten up late, Gilbert decided to put off the shower, and chose instead to drag the day's clothes out of the dresser. He shivered, thoroughly disliking the recent weather that reminded him so much of Russia.

He pulled his shirt off, and hissed when his cold metal cross came into contact with his skin.

"It's crooked." Matt explained as he adjusted the chain, surreptitiously trying to warm the goose bumps under his hands.

_hamper_

The clothes were mocking him. A messy pile of jeans and socks and t-shirts, sitting on the floor _right next to the laundry basket._ "Your eyes are bad. I get it. But that hamper has been in this house longer than I have, and yet you never seem to be able to actually get your clothes into it."

Matthew, tugging on a clean pair of pants, glanced at the rather irate albino standing by his bedroom door. "Huh?"

"Your clothes! You always toss them into a pile by the laundry basket. I even tried moving the basket to where the pile is, and you still managed to miss!" Gil replied, pointing to make his point clearer.

"I didn't realize it bothered you that much." Matt tried not to laugh at how much like a house wife Gilbert was acting.

_home_

"Hello, East. It's been a while since I saw… what are you doing?" Ludwig watched his brother toss what appeared to be the entire contents of his medicine cabinet into a duffel bag, which already contained what little had been in his dresser.

"Moving out." Gilbert continued haphazardly throwing things into his bag.

"Why?"

Gilbert looked around, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything. "Because I realized that this isn't home anymore."

_heat_

"Mat_tie_!" Gil whined. "It's cold!"

"It's winter in Canada, Gilbert, of course it's cold." Matt pointed out, snuggling deeper into the blanket he had carried into the living room and onto the couch.

"I've been here in the winter before, and it wasn't this cold!"

"Well, my heater _is_ broken." Gilbert took the offered seat next Matt, squishing against him as they tried to fit two grown men under one twin size blanket.

Gil smirked. "I can think of at least one thing that'll warm us up." He ran his hand up Matt's thigh. He felt Mattie tense up, and cursed himself for being too forward.

Matthew felt himself tense up, and cursed himself for being so shy. "Y-yeah, so can I." He hesitantly put his arms around Gilbert's neck, drawing him closer.

..

The reason for the double update: I'm not going to get on the computer all tomorrow to prove to my mom that I am capable of going without internet connection for twenty-four hours. She doesn't think I can do it. Neither do I. I predict that I will start experiencing withdrawal symptoms at approximately six thirty. Until Tuesday, ChiCho out!


	9. Chapter 9

**I** is for:

_impression_

"Hey, Mattie? You know how people say that first impressions are the ones that matter? What kind of first impression did I make?" Gilbert rolled onto his stomach to face Matt.

"I don't know, it was a long time ago. A good one, apparently." Matt propped his feet onto the arm of the couch, looking down at Gil, who was sprawled across the floor. "I doubt I made a very good one, though."

Gilbert laughed. What Mattie didn't know was that the first time they met hadn't been when Gilbert had formed his impression.

He had first seen Matt at a hockey game against Russia. He had been watching, hoping that he could see his nemesis defeated, even if only in a game. After the match, which Canada had won, he had seen Matt in the hallway, grinning and slapping his team mates on the back. His all-important first impression hadn't been of an invisible wallflower, but of a confident, beautiful athlete.

_innocent_

"Gilbert? Did you put an empty milk carton back in the fridge?" Matt held out the rancid carton for Gil's inspection.

"Smells gross." Gil commented. "And no, I didn't. Maybe it was Kumajirou?" They both turned to look at the bear. Kumajirou got up to leave the room.

"Definitely Kumamaro, if he's leaving the kitchen to get away from us. But how? He doesn't have thumbs."

" However he did it, I'm innocent." Gil pointed out, watching Matt watch his bear.

"Mm-hm."

"So do I get 'I'm sorry for falsely accusing you' sex?"

_incoming_

"_Mattie,_" Gilbert hissed in his ear. "_What the _hell_ is that?_"

"'That', as you so beautifully put it, is Mr. Tony. He's Al's, er, friend, I guess is the best word, and he's going to be staying with me while Al is in Europe. Mr. Tony, this is Gilbert." Matt gestured to Prussia.

Gil snickered. "So, Mr. Tony, are ya gonna phone home? Or maybe you're already getting an incoming message?" Matt kicked him in the shin in a futile attempt to get him to shut up. Gil just cackled.

_impulse_

Matt and Gilbert strolled through downtown, fingers entwined. Gil was bobbing his head, and Mattie was humming, the earbuds of Matt's iPod shared between them.

"Birdie? What's that sign say?" Gilbert gestured to a sign outside a restaurant.

"'_La Ferme?_' It means _'The Farmhouse'_."

"How about that one?" The sign indicated was giving directions to the wharf. Matt happily translated anything Gil couldn't read, enjoying being useful. It was unusual for Gil to need help with anything, even something as simple (to Matt) as reading French.

"Ah, Matthieu! Il est bon de vous voir! Qui est votre ami?" A pretty woman caught Matt's arm.

They conversed in French for a moment before Gil, feeling a bit left out, cleared his throat.

"Oh! Gilbert! I completely forgot about you! Gil, this is Angela. She's a waitress at that restaurant we just passed. I eat there a lot, so we're kind of friends."

"It is a pleasure to meet you." Angela smiled sweetly.

"Wünschte ich könnte das gleiche sagen." Gilbert spat back.

Matt face-palmed. "I'm sorry, Ange, I have no idea what he just said. He does speak English, believe it or not. And he's usually not this rude."

"It is quite all right. I must be leaving now. Au revoir." She waved cheerily as she re-entered _La Ferme_.

"Schlampe." Gilbert muttered under his breath as Angela walked away.

Matt sighed and took Gil's hand, pulling him along down the street. "You're a strange one." A flash of blond caught Matt's eye, and he realized that Angela was watching them from the window. Pretending he hadn't seen her, he pressed a quick kiss to Gilbert's cheek.

Gilbert grinned. It was the first time Mattie had kissed him in public when sober, and it was quite a victory to Gil, even if the kiss had been a bit impulsive.

..

Ah, Matthieu! Il est bon de vous voir! Qui est votre ami?- Ah, Matthew! It's good to see you! Who's your friend?  
Wünschte ich könnte das gleiche sagen.-Wish I could say the same.  
Au revoir.-Good bye.  
Schlampe.-Slut.  
Stormy-chan59, please tell me if my German's wrong!  
I have no self-control. None whatsoever. ChiCho out.


	10. Chapter 10

**J** is for:

_jealous_

Gilbert gave a low, tired whistle, leg hooked around Mattie's. "Damn, Birdie, where'd you learn to do that?" Matt blushed, but seemed like he was going to answer. Gilbert held up a hand to stop him. "On second thought, don't tell me. After all, being jealous is not awesome."

_jail_

Stifling a yawn, Matt reached for his ringing phone. He glanced at the number, but it wasn't one he knew well enough to recognize without his glasses. "Hello?"

"This is Canada's number right? Verdammt, forget what I just said. Is this Matthew Williams phone number?" Asked a strangely familiar voice.

"Um, yes, this is Matthew. Who is this?" Matt furrowed his brow, feeling around on his table for his glasses.

"This is Gilbert Beilschmidt." When Matt didn't say anything, he continued. "You know, Prussia?"

"Who? Oh, I remember you! But, how did you get my number?"

"Well, Francis had it written down."

"Francis? Is he okay?"

"He's fine, just really, really drunk. So's Toni, actually."

"I don't mean to be rude, but why did you call?"

Gilbert chuckled, the sound crackling over the connection. "Well, I was wondering if you could bail us out of jail."

_just_

"Matt! You can't be serious! Are you really going to let him move in with you?" Alfred waved his arms, as if the added motion would make his twin accept his point of view.

"I am serious. And why shouldn't Gil move in with me?" Matt decided not to tell his brother that he and Gil had been seeing each other for nearly a year.

"Because! He's just, just…"

"Just what?" There was a flat tone in Matt's voice that Al had never heard directed at him before.

"A barbarian! A bad influence! A—"

"A bad influence? What am I, ten? I am a grown man, Alfred, and perfectly capable of choosing who I want to live with."

_jeer_

"Your kind isn't welcome here." Gil turned to face a woman with a look of contempt on her face.

"My kind? You mean albinos?" Gil asked, honestly confused.

"Don't pretend to not know what I'm talking about," she scoffed, gesturing sharply toward the hand that was resting on Matt's hip.

"Gilbert, we should just leave." Matt murmured, tugging on Gil's sleeve.

"You should do what your little boy-toy says," the woman jeered.

"Gilbert." Matt tried to usher him to the door, pointedly ignoring the 'boy-toy' comment.

"Get the fuck off your high-horse, bitch. Me and Birdie can shop anywhere we damn well please."

The woman spat at him before turning on her heel and leaving. Gil stared at her, dumbfounded. "Mattie, what was that about?"

"Ah, it, it was nothing, Gil. Let's just get our groceries and leave." If Gilbert knew what Matt did, he would have wasted no time beating the woman to bloody mess. It was just pure luck that the one day that Gil had backed out of grocery shopping had been the day the woman had protested gay rights in front of the store.

..

Verdammt- damn.  
Luckily for me, I have never encountered anyone like the woman in the _jeer_ drabble. However, my lesbian friend was once cussed out by a complete stranger for kissing her girlfriend in a parking lot. Some people are just intolerant, I guess.  
Sorry this chapter's so short, but I'm kinda on a deadline. I'll try to make chapter L extra long to make up for it. Why not chapter K, you ask? Because it'll be about as hard to think of words that start with K as it was ones that start with J. ChiCho out!


	11. Chapter 11

**K** is for:

_kibble_

"Um, Gilbert? What's that?" Matt gestured to the bag Gil was holding.

"It's kibble. For your dog."

"Dog…?" Matt frowned. "You mean Kumariku? He's a bear."

"Well, you can still feed it to him, right?" Gil asked, shifting the (rather heavy) bag of dog food.

"I-I guess I can try, but he probably won't eat it. Kumamoro is pretty picky."

"…Kumamoro? Didn't you call it Kumariku a second ago?"

_kitchen_

"_Mm…Gil…"_

"_G-Gott, Mattie!"_

"_H…harder, Gil!"_

Alfred froze, hand outstretched toward his brother's door. He reluctantly found himself tip-toeing around to peek in Matt's kitchen window, to make sure his brother wasn't doing what he thought he was doing.

He was. Against the refrigerator, and rather…_enthusiastically._ Alfred backed away, hand held over his eyes.

_I think I've just been scarred for life._

_keen_

The blade caught the light, shining painfully bright. It was pulled through giving flesh, blood running in neat rivulets.

Gilbert hummed to himself as he cut the steak, while Mattie prepared the grill outside. He wasn't really paying as much attention to what he was doing as he should have been. The keen blade of the kitchen knife caught the tip of his thumb, sinking into it deeply. He jerked his hand back, cussing loudly, and dropped the knife.

"Gil? You okay?" Matt called, poking his head in the door. "Shit, Gil, what'd you do?" He yelped, watching bloody water run down the drain as Gilbert gingerly cleaned the injury.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I just cut myself a little, that's all."

"A _little?_ I can practically see the bone!"

Gilbert paled considerably, inspecting the cut. After a moment, he gave a relieved sigh. "You shouldn't exaggerate like that, Birdie."

_king_

"Damnit, Mattie!" Gil groaned, flopping back onto the floor. "How come you _always_ win? I was a soldier, um Gottes willen, I should be good at this game!

"Arthur is the one who taught me how to play. Want another match?" Matt queried, gathering the chess pieces expectantly.

"_Arthur_ taught you how to play? No wonder I can't win." Gil grumbled, avoiding Matt's question. It was a well-known fact among the European nations, especially the older ones, that Arthur was the best chess player among them.

"So?" Matt prompted, waving his pieces in Gil's face.

"Nah, you'd just kick my ass again."

Matt smirked. "Sore loser." He accused.

"This is the first thing I've ever lost at, so I don't have a whole lot of experience doing it gracefully." Gil crossed his arms and scowled at the fireplace.

"First thing you've ever lost at? Somehow I doubt that." Matt raised an eyebrow.

"Well, there was that one time… But I was drunk, so that doesn't count!"

_knit_

"…good tidings we bring, to you and your—"

"Mat_tie_, it's too early in the morning to be singing." Gilbert groaned, pulling his pillow over his head.

"But, Gil, it's Christmas!" Matt insisted, jabbing his half-asleep boyfriend in the side.

"Ugh…" Was all Gil said.

Matt left, only to return with an armful of presents and a plate.

Gil sat up, sniffing. "Essen?"

"Cookies." Matt said, setting the platter down.

"And you brought the presents up."

"Yup. I figured we could just spend the day in here."

"I like the sound of that."

Matt just rolled his eyes and dropped the packages on the bed. "Here, since you're so awesome, open one of yours first." He tossed a box at Gil's head.

Gilbert received a crate of German beer from Ludwig, a hat with a nest built into it from Feliciano, a box of condoms from Francis, a box of cigars from Cuba, and a copy of _Don Quijote de la Mancha _from Antonio.

Matt's haul was slightly smaller, with a box of wine from Francis, a hat with an American flag pattern from Alfred, a carton of ice cream (packed in ice) from Cuba, and _something_ not quite identifiable but surely well meant from Arthur.

"What do you think it is?" Gil examined the woolen monstrosity that Artie had sent.

"I… I honestly don't know." Matt plucked a card from the box. "'I wasn't sure what size you were, and Alfred wouldn't sit still long enough for me to get a good measurement, but I hope it fits. It's knitted from the finest wool available. Merry Christmas, love, Arthur.'" Matt read aloud. "So it's clothes?"

"Apparently."

"Maybe a sweater?" Matt poked at the lump of wool. Gil rubbed his hand over it.

"Whatever it is, it's itchy."

..

Gott-God.  
Um Gottes willen-for God's sake.  
Essen?-Food?  
Did I surprise you with where _keen_ went, after the way I started it? Did I did I did I? Also, I'm fairly certain _Don Quijote de la Mancha_ is a real book. No, I know it's a real book, I'm just not sure if that's the title. I don't know why Toni would be sending Gil a novel, but that was really all I could think of. We just read the shortened (very shortened) version in Spanish class, so… Once again, I apologize for uploading this twice, but once again, I have had my German corrected. Sorry if that messes anything up! ChiCho out!


	12. Chapter 12

**L** is for:

_leave_

"Matt," Alfred whined, "how come you're still here? Aren't the construction people _done_ yet?"

"Al, you hollowed out two rooms of my house, of course they aren't done yet. Due to that, I have _nowhere else to go._" Matt stared his brother down over the rims of his glasses.

"How was I supposed to know that cooking spray is flammable?" Al protested.

"It says so right on the bottle!" Matt took a deep breath. "If we're going to be living together for the next couple of months, we shouldn't fight."

"Yeah, I guess, but what about _him?_" Al pointed accusingly at Gilbert, who was currently in the yard trying to teach Kumajirou to fetch. "Why can't _he_ leave?"

"Because flights to Germany are expensive, he has no money, all of mine is being used to pay the contractors, and while Ludwig may be more than willing to pay for a plane ticket _here_, he has absolutely no reason to want Gilbert back."

_lick_

Gilbert was not the type to get jealous easily, but he would have given _any_thing to take the place of Mattie's ice cream cone.

Matt, oblivious to Gil's attention, continued, in his mind innocently, licking his ice cream.

Grin splitting his face, Gil leaned toward Matt. "Hey, Birdie. What's that taste like?"

"This? It's v—" He was cut off abruptly when Gil lunged forward and swiped his tongue across the shocked blonde's teeth.

"Mm. I think I like that flavor."

_level_

"Gil? What'd you break this time?" Matt poked his head around the door frame to see Gil sprawled halfway on the floor, the rest of him tangled in a ladder that looked out of place in the house.

"Myself." Gil grunted, attempting to pry himself loose from the ladder.

"Need some help?" Matt crouched next to Gil's head, watching his predicament with obvious amusement. Gil didn't answer, just continued wiggling futilely. After a few moments, Matt took pity on him and lifted the far end of the ladder, providing Gil enough room to free himself.

"So…?" Matt gestured questioningly at the ladder.

"Well, I ah, I kinda knocked down one of your pictures." Gil rubbed the back of his neck. "And then when I tried to put it back up, I couldn't get it level…"

_library_

"…and then Tinker Bell said 'Artie, you can't mean that!' So I told her 'Of course I did!'…" Gilbert loudly continued his (godawful) impersonation of Arthur, complete with terrible accent. Matt couldn't help but to snicker when he remembered that, while Arthur had vehemently denied knowing a fairy named Tinker Bell, he had never denied knowing fairies in general.

It was at that point that Gil leapt onto the table, switching his mimicry from Arthur to Elizaveta and pitching his voice in a shrill falsetto. "Girl? I'm not a girl? How could I possibly be a girl? Breasts, you say? What breasts? You mean these awesome pecs?" Matt started laughing.

"Ahem. Gentlemen." Matt and Gil turned to face a rather annoyed looking woman. "I'm afraid that I'm going to have to ask you to leave the library."

_lean_

Matt sighed contently, tracing his fingertips over Gilbert's abdomen. He began humming quietly, but quit when he realized that he could quite easily see every single one of Gilbert's ribs, outlined harshly by shadows against his skin. "You're too skinny." He accused.

"I'm not skinny, I'm lean." Gil corrected defensively.

"Right." Gil decided he'd ignore the sarcasm evident in Matt's tone.

_low_

Gil tapped his fingers to the beat, listening to the music playing on his iPod, just loud enough to be heard without silencing the rest of the world.

Matt watched him, smiling. There was a single chick in his hair, sleeping. It just sat there, occasionally twitching. Gil obviously hadn't noticed it. The small bird didn't seem disturbed by Gil shifting in his chair, or leaning back slightly to stare out the window. In fact, it didn't seem to realize that it was on a person at all.

"What?" Gil asked, noticing Matt's dreamy expression. Matt giggled.

"Nothing."

Gilbert abruptly stood. "Apple bottom jeans, boots with the fur, the whole club was looking at her. Next thing you know, Shawty got low, low, low…" Gil continued singing as Matt watched with something akin to fascinated horror as Gil began dancing.

The bird, a bit disgruntled from being awakened, flew away, unnoticed by either nation.

After Gil's little performance was over, Matt cleared his throat awkwardly. "Flo Rida, Gil? Really?"

_liar_

"Be honest Gil, I really want to know: Have you ever mistaken me for Alfred?" Matt asked, rubbing the newest bruises on his ribs, courtesy of Cuba.

"Nope. Although, there was one time that… never mind." Gil shook his head, hoping Matt would drop it. So of course he couldn't.

"That one time?"

"Just keep in mind that I was really drunk, all right? One night, I ran into Al, and, I uh, I kinda thought he was you."

Matt stared at him. It was too strange to be a lie. "So what did you do?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Don't kill me, okay? Even though he nearly did… Anyway, I started to, um, try to make out with him."

Matt giggled, then chuckled, and finally just broke into side-splitting laughter. "Seriously?"

Gil nodded miserably. "He punched me. And then I think he tried to strangle me, but my memory of that part's a bit fuzzy. Actually, all of it's pretty fuzzy, but that's probably the worst."

"I think you're the first person to ever mistake Al for me."

"Thanks, Mattie. That makes me feel so special."

"Your sarcasm has been noted."

..

Wow. That chapter was really long… I couldn't help myself with _liar_. I really couldn't. But someone had to write it! I mean, people always think Matt is Al, so I just had to switch it. And I really have no idea how long it would take to have two rooms of your house completely remodeled after having it blown out. _Get Low_ is a real song, by Flo Rida. The song's fun to dance to, not so much fun to have stuck in your head during class. Incidentally, this is the first chapter of this story that's over 1,000 words long. Is that a milestone? ChiCho out!


	13. Chapter 13

**M** is for:

_measure_

"Hey Maaatie, whatcha doing?" Gil put his hands on Matt's hips, making the younger man jump slightly.

"Baking a cake." Matt continued carefully scooping flour into a measuring cup.

"Why?"

"I don't know, I just feel like it. Could you hand me the milk?"

_meek_

"No way! Nofuckingway!" Matt howled, ripping the pillow from underneath Gil's head and throwing it at the television.

Gil stared at him, still half asleep, as he continued cussing out the ref of a hockey game. The show was live, and the only reason Matt wasn't there in person was because he had twisted his ankle (while playing floor hockey) and his doctor had given him specific instructions to stay home. He probably would have gone anyway, but Gil 'accidentally' unplugged the alarm clock, and he had missed his flight.

After snagging another pillow (Matthew's), Gilbert's last conscious thought before falling asleep was that anyone who called Mattie 'meek' had obviously never seen him watch hockey_._

_meal_

"Mm. As bad as it is for you, pizza should _not_ taste this good." Matt mused, licking the last bit of sauce from his lips.

"C'mon, Birdie, don't you know that anything that tastes good automatically has to be terrible for you?" Gil teased. Matt just rolled his eyes and pushed the empty box off the counter into the strategically placed trash bag, paper plates and napkins soon following suit.

_muse_

"Gil? What are you doing up here?" Matt opened the attic door cautiously, half-expecting Gil to jump out and try to scare him.

"Mattie! I was just, uh…" Gil trailed off, looking oddly embarrassed. "I was painting." He gestured around the room.

He had converted it into a studio. All the dust and cobwebs had been cleaned out. Pictures of varying sizes leaned against the walls, some covered with cloth, others left exposed. A canvas, spread across an easel, was set up so that the morning sunlight struck it.

"You paint?"

"Y-yeah." It was so unlike Gil to stutter that Matt had to smile.

"May I see one?" He asked softly.

"Um, they're not very good…but, if you want…" Gil chose one of the medium sized paintings and slowly drew the cloth from it.

"It's, it's me." Matt realized. The painting had him smiling as he reached out of a window, Gilbird hovering at his fingertips.

"So's this one." Gilbert admitted, revealing a white and gray one that showed Matt sleeping, the only color the bright crimson of a maple leaf lying next to his head. "Not all of them are you." Gil added suddenly, as if self-conscious.

"You're a good artist. How long have you been painting?"

"I actually didn't start until a couple of years ago." Gil hastily re-covered the paintings.

"Before or after you met me?" It was cute, seeing Gil so flustered, Matt decided.

"A-after. You were, you _are_ my muse." The last part was added under his breath, like Gil didn't really want Mattie to hear him.

"Am I? I'm flattered." Matt put his arms around Gil's shoulders, pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I'm glad I could inspire art."

"You're too much of a people-pleaser, Mattie." Gil muttered, secretly pleased by the praise.

"Just shut up and kiss me."

"Your bossy side is sexy." Gil purred, complying more than happily.

..

The difference between muse and muse: muse (myu-oose)- someone or something that inspires art; muse (myu-ooze)-to ponder.  
I love hockey. I fucking love it. That game is EPIC. I also love pizza. Anyway, artist!Gil was inspired by _Become One With Canada_, by exorcistor. ChiCho out!


	14. Chapter 14

**N** is for:

_north_

"Hey! Hey, Germany!" Frowning, Ludwig turned to face the hollering North American. At first he thought it was America, but then he realized that he had oft mistaken Gilbert's new friend-What was his name? Canada?-for his twin. Except, he was pretty sure it was America…

"What?"

"You need to tell your thick-headed, ass-hole brother to keep his hands off Matt!" America, definitely America, snapped.

"What?" Ludwig repeated, feeling like he was missing something.

"Prussia! He was _groping_ Matt!"

"He…he was?" Ludwig began quick mental calculations of how many troops would be needed if most of the North American continent declared war on him.

_never_

"Birdie, I'm bored." Gil announced, dropping onto floor with a thump.

"Hold on a sec." Matt, completely oblivious to what Gil had just said, continued focusing on the video game he was playing.

"_Birdie_," Gil whined.

"Ah-ha! I finally beat it! Finally!" Matt whooped. "Oh, hey Gil," he added, finally facing the ex-nation.

"I'm _bored_." Gil repeated.

"Um, okay. What do you want me to do about it?"

"Let's play 'never have I ever'." Gil grinned manically.

"Fine. You go first." Matt was honestly a bit curious as to what Gil's answer would be.

"Never have I ever…kissed Feli. Your turn." Gil smirked, dying to know what Matt would be willing to admit having never done.

"Okay, then, never have I ever lost to Al in a hockey match."

"C'mon, that one doesn't count! You don't lose to anyone at hockey, let alone your idiot brother!" Gil insisted.

Matt sighed. "Never have I ever been in a fight outside a hockey match. I don't mean wars or anything, but an actual fist fight."

"Outside of a hockey match?" Gil questioned, curious about the limiter.

"Once someone punched me during a match, and my adrenaline was up, and well…"

_new_

Mattie hummed to himself, attaching the collar around Kumajirou's neck. "All right, boy, let's go." He stood, leash dangling from his hand.

"Who?" Matt ignored the question, instead opening his door and leading the bear outside.

"What's up?" Gil asked, materializing from around the corner.

"I'm walking Kumakaro."

"I thought you said it wasn't a dog."

"He isn't, but he still needs his exercise. What about you? What are you doing here?" Matt looked at him from the corner of his eyes as Kumajirou sniffed boredly at a tree.

"Aren't you happy that I'm gracing you with my awesome presence?" Gil pretended to be hurt.

"Hmm." Was all Matt said in response.

"Why does your dog-bear thing look different than usual?"

"I have no idea. Maybe because I got him a new collar?" Matt offered, squinting against the mid-morning sun.

"Maybe. Or maybe it's just 'cause I've never seen it on a leash before." Gil pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket.

"Ottawa just passed a new leash law." Matt pointed out, beginning the walk back home.

"Huh." Gil, who now had his back to the sun, put his sunglasses away with a slightly annoyed huff.

_noose_

"Once, I when I was visiting Al, during the 1690's, I was accused of being a witch." Matt said, as he and Gilbert watched end credits of a documentary that had been playing on the Discovery Chanel about the Salem Witch Trials.

"Seriously?" Gil raised an eyebrow, film forgotten.

"Yeah. Someone had been stalking me. I never found out for how long, but it was long enough for them to notice that I didn't age." Matt reached for the remote, turned the television off.

"What happened?"

"They hung me." Matt said without even a trace of hesitation.

"Ouch. Sounds painful."

"It was, but at least they didn't burn me at a stake." Matt went around the house, turning the lights off, Gil following.

"Why didn't you leave before they got the chance?" Gil flipped the light switch in the kitchen before Matt could reach it, smirking crookedly.

"I don't know. I guess I was curious. I mean, I'd never died before, you know?"

"I guess."

"How, how did you die the first time? I-if it's not too personal." Matt looked away, like he didn't expect Gil to answer.

Gilbert laughed. "I'm not really sure. People have been shooting me, stabbing me, drowning me, for as long as I can remember. Although I don't think I've ever been hanged."

..

The Salem Witch Trials were an 'event of mass hysteria' that occurred during 1692 in which 19 people were killed for being witches in Salem Village in Massachusetts. I once nearly got in a fight during a game floor hockey in gym class. Doesn't sound that stupid, right? Except for the fact that the person I almost fought is on the (American) football team, and probably weighs fifty pounds more than I do. Never have I ever is fun, if stupid, and potentially incredibly embarrassing. Also, it always somehow seems to end up about sex. Speaking of sex, in _never_, the first time I typed 'Hold on a sec.' I accidentally typed 'Hold on a sex.' Yes, I know, I have issues. And on the topic of leash laws, my city has one, but my stupid, should-be-slowly-killed-by-Russia neighbors completely ignore it. Their dogs shit in _my_ (okay, not my, but I live here damnit!) yard _all the fucking time!_ It really pisses me off (obviously), even more so because I'm the one that has to mow. Grr! ChiCho out.


	15. Chapter 15

**O** is for:

_on_

"So where are we again?" Gil asked, looking curiously around the scenic town.

"This is Tennessee. Elizabethton, actually." Matt shoved his hands in his pockets, noticing that the locals seemed to be staring at Gilbert.

"It's your stupid bruder's fault we're here." Gil grumbled. "He didn't have to be so sore about losing that bet. Couldn't he have sent us somewhere _nice_?"

"This is where he sent us, so stop complaining. After all, we get a free vacation out of it." Matt pointed out.

Gil snorted in response. "Was starrst du?" Gil barked at a teenager, who jumped guiltily before turning to her friends and whispering.

"Yelling at people is usually more effective if they can understand what you're saying."

"Yeah, but it's more fun to pretend you don't speak their language." Gil answered with a smirk.

"Sometimes I have no idea what goes on in that head of yours." Matt mused. Gil just grinned at him before snapping at someone else in quick, sharp German.

_other_

"Westen is the very definition of leunung." Gil snorted, shaking his head.

"Leunung? What does that mean?" Matt cocked his head curiously.

"Denial."

"And why is Ludwig the definition of denial?" Matt asked as he continued cleaning up the remnants of his, Ludwig's, Feliciano's, and Gil's dinner.

"'Cause he's totally in love with Feli, and refuses to admit it."

Matt laughed softly. "What exactly brought you to that conclusion?"

"It's obvious, what with the way they act around each other. Also, Westen talks in his sleep." Matt wasn't going to ask about the last statement.

"Is that all?"

"Well, yeah. Come on, though, do you really need any other reasons if the awesome me has declared it?"

_opposite_

A pained, exasperated smile tugged at the corners of Matt's mouth as he put his phone away.

"Excuse me, sir? Who were you talking too? If it's not too personal." The secretary smiled at him nervously, obviously wondering who his boss got over three quarters of his phone calls from.

"Oh, that was Gilbert." Matt continued with his paperwork.

"Is he… like, like you?" The secretary asked.

"You mean a nation?" The man nodded. "He is. He's Pru—actually, he's Eastern Germany."

"Eastern Germany? Is there more than one of them, then?"

"Yeah. His little brother is Westen… I mean Western Germany. You wouldn't know by how they act, though. Their personalities are completely opposite."

"Um, is there something going on? Politically, I mean. You seem to spend a lot of time on the phone with him." The secretary stammered.

"No, no, we're just friends. And if it was political I'd be talking to Ludwig. Gil isn't really much for diplomatic matters."

_out_

"It is good to see you, Comrade Matvey." Russia smiled innocently.

"Um, i-it's good to see you too, Ivan, but what are you doing here?" Matt fidgeted anxiously, wishing he had thought to put on something more substantial than just a robe before answering the door.

"It has come to my attention that you are _involved_ with Prussia. Is this true?" Ivan cocked his head, the gesture strangely childish.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Gil demanded. He had had the forethought to put on a pair of boxers before coming downstairs, Matt was glad to notice.

"I see that my question has already been answered. I suppose I owe Yao-Yao some money now, da?" And with that, Ivan left, whistling himself.

"The fuck?" Gil asked intelligently.

"I have no idea." Matt closed the door and turned to face Gil, draping his arms around his neck. "Now, why don't we get back to what we were doing before we were so rudely interrupted, oui?"

"I like the sound of that."

Neither of them noticed Ivan outside, snapping pictures through the window. And _no one_ knew that there were actually two people Russia feared, the first being Belarus, the other Hungary if she thought that he was denying her access to images of two men making out.

..

*snorts* This chapter was epic fail. And I had radioactive rice for dinner. It was neon orange. It's hard to think of words that start with o. Am I the only one that thinks Gil would enjoy pretending he didn't speak English? I used to live in Elizabethton, so writing this chapter made me sad. Nooo! O Fates, why hast thou forsaken me? I never wanted to mooove! *sniffles pathetically*  
Was starrst du? - What are you staring at?  
As always, please correct my German if it needs it.  
ChiCho out…


	16. Chapter 16

**P** is for:

_presence_

"I'm worried about Al." Matt admitted.

Gil looked up from the comic book he was reading. "Huh?"

"Al. He hasn't been answering his phone, his president hasn't seen him, Arthur doesn't know where he is, and his housekeeper says he hasn't been home in three days!"

"Really? That's a little spooky. What do you think happened to him?" Gil didn't protest when Mattie put the comic on the floor to climb into his lap.

"I don't know. I know it's a stupid idea, but what if he was kidnapped? Or, or maybe Tony abducted him!" Matt pressed his face against Gil's chest, comforted by the familiar scent.

"Actually, now that I think about… I haven't heard from bruder in a while…he's usually calling all the time to check up on me, make sure I haven't burnt your house down or anything. Heh-heh, I know, Westen and Alfred ran off together. They're having a hot, torrid affair as we speak!"

Matt punched him in the stomach. "Be serious, for once in your life. Both of our brothers are missing and the best you can come up with is a lewd comment?"

"I—"

"Matt! Guesswhatguesswhatguess_what?_" Al bounded down the hallway, dragging a rather confused looking Ludwig behind him, with Tony following at a more sedate pace. "Tony took us up in his spaceship! I was eating a hamburger, and Luddy was walking by, and Tony just _sheew_ beamed us up!"

Ludwig grimaced at the nickname. "I was an accident. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"He's right. Fucking kraut." Tony muttered, but was generally ignored.

"You mean _right _place at the _right_ time, don't you? It was awesome!" Alfred continued yammering, oblivious to the fact that no one was listening to him.

Matt sighed. He never would have guessed that his brother's presence, usually so irritating, could bring him this much calm.

_patience_

Matt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gilbert, what on Earth is that?"

Gil grinned. "An ice cream statue." He grinned at the vaguely formed lump sitting innocently on the plate.

"A what?" Matt shivered slightly, and pulled his coat closer. Gilbert, oddly enough, seemed oblivious to the cold.

"An ice cream statue! It's of Gilbird." He twitched at his gloves, breath frosting in the air.

Matthew was starting to lose patience. "Just come inside before you freeze to death." He ordered, exasperated.

"But Gilbird'll melt!" Gil protested.

"Can't we just leave it outside and let Kumahero eat it?" Matt questioned, attempting to pull Gil toward the door.

"No!" Gilbert wailed, watching with horror as Kumajirou bit off Gilbird's cheesecake flavored head.

_pet_

"Hey Mattie, have I ever told you the story of how I got Gilbird?" Matt turned to face him.

"No, actually, which is a little surprising."

Gil snickered. "I would tell you, except for the fact that I don't know myself. I've just had him for as long as I can remember."

Matt whistled appreciatively. "That's one old bird."

"Yup. But Kumajirou's no different."

"Huh. I guess you're right. I've never really thought about, but I've had him since I was a colony."

"And Iceland's had that puffin forever. I guess being around us is enough to make even our pets freaks." Gil laughed again.

"Yeah. I once took Kumaloli to the vet because he ate a bottle of my shampoo, and the doctor said that he was the most healthy polar bear he'd ever seen, despite the fact that he was also the fattest."

"He ate a bottle of shampoo?" Gil asked, completely ignoring the rest of it. "_Why?_"

"I have no idea, I'd already fed him. And when I say he ate a bottle, I mean it literally. He actually ate the bottle, along with all its contents."

"Seriously?" Gil was aghast. He knew Kumajirou was wack-o, but this was taking it to whole new level of insane.

"Seriously. Like you said, being around us nations makes our pets freaks."

_privacy_

"Ah, mon fils, finally you have found l'amour!" Francis crooned.

Matt sighed. "Papa, we're just friends." He insisted, despite the fact the he knew the attempt was futile.

"Perhaps for now, but you have passion, non?" Francis waggled his eyebrows. "And where there is passion, love always has a chance to grow."

"…passion?" Matt wasn't sure if he wanted to know where Francis had gotten that idea.

"Oui, passion. And I have seen the looks he sends you, Matthieu." Francis smirked and steepled his fingers. "All the things he does to get your attention, have you not noticed them?"

"But Gil's always obnoxious. How does that equate with 'passion'?" Matt asked, going against his better judgment with the question.

"The way you fight, mon fils, is the answer. You have seen the way Angleterre and Amérique go at each other's throats, have you not? And I know you are privy to the way they make love."

Matt flushed. Walking in on his brother and one of his father figures _in the act_ was not something he was fond of remembering. Francis, who had been with him at the time, had never let the two live down the fact that they had chosen the one room in the entire building that didn't have a lock.

"Al's and Arthur's private lives aside, what does any of this have to do with me and Gilbert?"

"Alfred and Gilbert are alike in many ways, so it would follow that they would express their affection in much the same manner, would it not?"

"I-I suppose it would. But Gil doesn't act any different around me then he does around anyone else!" Matt protested.

"But mon fils, have you ever seen him when he was not around you?" Matt opened his mouth to stutter out a reply, but Francis cut him off. "You have not, but I have. He lights up around you, in a way that I have never seen from him before. He is in love. With you."

"I'm sorry, Papa, but you're crazy." He would have said more, but he was once again interrupted.

"I have also seen the way _you _act around _him_. Perhaps you are doing it subconsciously, but whenever you are with Gilbert, you are a bit more assertive, a bit less invisible. I believe that, peut-être, the two of you could be good for each other."

..

Whoo-hoo! Francis is just so much fun to write! Even if he is being fatherly!Francis instead of perverted!Francis…  
Mon fils-my son.  
L'amour-love.  
Angleterre and Amérique-England and America.  
Peut-être-perhaps.  
I love gratuitous UKUS. And you read that read, it does say UKUS. Actually, I just read this really good USUK story called _Anatomically Correct_. I can't remember who it's by, but it made me smile:)  
Things involving Tony are also fun to write, probably cuz I'm an obsessive sci-fi fan. If you're patient enough to wade through everything on my favorites list, you'll find some _Star Trek: The Original Series_ stuff, and I think maybe some _The Next Generation_ stuff too. Anyway, back to the Tony topic; I hope I didn't offend anyone, but I figured if Tony is racist against the British, it wouldn't be too much of stretch for him to hate German's too… If my French is wrong, please correct me! ChiCho out!


	17. Chapter 17

**Q** is for:

_quit_

"G-Gilbert! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Matt yelled, clutching convulsively at his seatbelt.

"See those orange cones?" Gil asked, both hands off the wheel, pointing with one, fiddling with the radio dial with the other.

"Yes, yes, I see them, just stop doing that!"

"Doing what?" Gil turned to look at Matt, who appeared to be on the verge of fainting.

"Gilbert! Look at the road!" Matt hollered.

"Sorry, sorry." Gil mumbled, doing as he was told. "Anyway, back to your first question. I am trying to drive over the cones so that they go in between the front tires. Isn't that an awesome idea? Me and Francis and Tonio do it all the time."

"Watch out!"

"Fuck!" Gil spun the steering wheel sharply, swerving to avoid a car coming toward them. The driver honked loudly.

Matt groaned dejectedly. "Gilbert, I swear to God, I am never letting you drive on my roads again."

"Aw, Birdie, quit being such a stick in the mud!"

_quilt_

"Mm. 'S warm." Gil mumbled, barely audible, as he sank deeper into Matt's bed. "Your quilt's soft." He added absently.

"Yeah. Arthur made it for me, a long time ago. Al has a matching one. Well, had. It was in the White House when I burned it. Francis told me that Arthur almost cried when he found out."

Gil lifted his head. "You _burned_ your brother's capitol?"

Matthew nodded. "During the War of 1812."

"Wow. If I had done something like that to West…I probably wouldn't be talking to you. I may be the most awesome being in the universe, but West's revenge is the most awesome force, and I don't want to find it which is more awesome."

Matt rolled his eyes and kissed Gil on the cheek. "I think I like you better when you're half-asleep."

_quiet_

Ludwig frowned. It was quiet. Too quiet. Which he knew was incredibly clichéd, but that didn't stop it from being true.

Where was all the noise he had grown used to? There was no Feliciano singing while he painted, or Gilbert yelling just for the sake of yelling, or dogs barking and crowding against him.

They were all missing.

Heart in his throat, soldier's training taking control, Ludwig carefully searched his house. None of them was anywhere to be seen. The first seeds of worry beginning to take root, Ludwig opened the door of the last room: his personal office.

It was as empty as the rest of the house. With a heavy heart, Ludwig flopped down in his chair. And then he noticed something out of place. It was a single sheet of stationery, light blue with a faint polar bear print. The handwriting on it, messy and nearly illegible, was most definitely Gilbert's.

_Hey Bruder,  
I took Feli and the dogs over to Birdie's house for pancakes. Be back whenever.  
Awesomely,  
Gil_

"Birdie?" Ludwig wondered aloud. "And can dogs even eat pancakes?"

_quote_

Matt looked around, wide-eyed. "It's beautiful here, Gilbert. Your country side is…"

Gil blushed slightly. "Thanks. I…I'm glad you like it."

"I was walking in the woods; Just on a whim of mine, And seeking nothing, That was my intention." Matt murmured. "In the shade I saw; A little flower standing; Like stars glittering; Like beautiful little eyes." He continued.

"I wanted to pick it," Gil said, voice as soft as Matthew's. "When it said delicately: Should I just to wilt; Be picked?"

"Y-you know that poem?" Matt stammered.

"Well, yeah. I've been around a lot longer than you, kid, so I've had more time to memorize useless things. I didn't know it had been translated, though."

"O-oh. Le poème est beau, mais il ne se compare pas à toi."

"What?"

Matt just shook his head.

..

Le poème est beau, mais il ne se compare pas à toi.-The poem is beautiful, but it doesn't compare to you.  
Once again, sorry for uploading this twice, but you know the drill: I have had my {insert language I don't speak} corrected.  
The poem is "Gefunden" (Found) by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, a German poet. The full poem (in German, but with a line-by-line English translation) can be found here: http:/german (dot) about (dot) com/library/blgefunden (dot) htm  
I would make this longer, but my sister needs the computer. ChiCho out!


	18. Chapter 18

**R** is for:

_race_

Gil whooped loudly, jumping as he did so. "I won!"

Matt, trudging more slowly behind him, shook his head. "It wasn't a race, you know."

_role_

"What the fuck, America? You think you can just walk all over me? Do you?" Cuba pushed Matt, and the latter felt his back slam into the wall in a detached, absent manner.

"I'm not—"

"Shut up!" A fist crashed into Matt's stomach, and he doubled over with a choked gasp.

Cuba looked like he was about to do more, when a pale hand closed around his neck, fingers digging expertly into pressure points. "Can I help you?" Gilbert growled into his ear.

Cuba's only response was a strangled sound that was probably supposed to be a word.

Gil muttered something under his breath in German and tossed Cuba down the hall. "You okay?" He asked, voice soft, as he held out a hand toward Matt.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. You didn't have to stop him, he would have quit eventually." Matt pulled himself up, swaying unsteadily.

"You shouldn't have to wait for 'eventually'!" Gil protested as he pulled Mattie protectively against his chest. "I'm gonna have to teach you how to fight." He decided.

Matt shook his head. "Everyone has a role to play, this just happens to be mine. Learning how to fight won't change that."

"If that's what your role is, I think we should change the script."

_relax_

"Stupid Alfred. Stupid Arthur. Stupid Ivan. Argh!" Matt flopped down onto the grass.

"Good to see you, too." Gil said, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "Bad day?"

"Bad like you wouldn't believe. First, Al thought I was his _clone_ and tried to get me to kill Ivan in his sleep. Then Arthur mistook me for Al, and threw a paperweight at my head." He paused for a moment to pull his bangs back and show Gil the healing gash on his forehead. "And finally, Ivan sat on me. He didn't see me, and just plopped down! W-what are you doing?" He yelped when he felt Gil's hands on his shoulders.

"You're tense. You need to relax." Gilbert offered no more explanation as he began kneading.

"Mm. I guess you're right…" Matt relented, and let Gil continue his ministrations, for once not caring what his neighbors might think.

_roll_

"Mark Aaron?" The teacher called boredly.

"Here."

"Joseph Barker?"

"Here."

"Gilbert Beilschmidt?"

Silence.

"Does anyone know where Mr. Beilschmidt is?" The teacher gave the class an un-interested look. Matt raised his hand nervously.

"Yes, Mr. Jones?"

Matt didn't bother to correct her. "Gilbert's sick." Gilbert was actually hung over, but the teacher didn't need to know that.

"I see. Francis Bonefoy?"

More silence.

"Is Mr. Bonefoy sick as well, Mr. Jones?"

"Y-yes, ma'am." Francis was more hung over than Gil was.

"Antonio Carriedo?"

Silence for a third time. The teacher just shook her head and continued calling roll.

_reason_

"Gilbert," Matt purred. "I'm cold." He straddled Gil, smirking.

Gil chuckled. "Maybe I can help warm you up." He ran his hands up Matt's thighs, letting them come to rest on his hips.

"Hm." Matt leaned forward so that their lips were almost touching. "I don't think you can." His breath ghosted tauntingly over Gil's face.

"Is that a challenge?"

The door slammed open, bringing with it a gust of snow. "Bruder! Was haben Sie mit Feliciano?" Ludwig demanded, completely ignoring Matthew.

Gilbert, for once, looked innocent. "Nichts. Warum? Ist er gut?"

Ludwig frowned. Either Gil's lying skills had drastically improved or he really didn't know anything. "I don't know. He's missing. I called Kiku, but he hasn't seen him. I even called Lovino. He threatened to set the Mafia on me for losing his brother."

"Oh. Hold on a sec." Gil dug his phone from his pocket, moving Matt's knee to get to it. He pressed a few buttons, and then: "Hey, Francis, you got Feli? …West's gonna kill you… There is no 'as long as he doesn't find out', he's standing right here… Innocent intentions, my ass... Yeah, just drop him off at Strasbourg; West'll pick 'im up there." Gil hung up, then grinned snarkily at his brother. "Problem solved."

"Ah, thanks." Ludwig finally took in Gil and Matt's rather compromising position. "I-I apologize for… in-interrupting…" He fled, barely remembering to close the door behind him.

Matt stared at the door, then started laughing. "I'm going to have to start locking my door, aren't I?"

"Yeah, probably."

"I keep trying to remind myself, but I've never really had a reason to, until now."

..

Chapter R is complete! (That reads really perverted…)  
Bruder! Was haben Sie mit Feliciano?-Brother! What did you do with Feliciano?  
Nichts. Warum? Ist er gut?-Nothing. Why? Is he alright?  
Strasbourg is a town near the border between France and Germany. And look, in _roll_ we have a return of the high school AU! Winter is coming~ Actually, fall is, at least where I live. It's been cold recently… I bought a scarf while I was at the mall yesterday, and I'm going to where it like Russia's. It's warm and fuzzy! It's also black, which, while not my favorite color, is the predominant shade in my wardrobe. It's hard to find violet and indigo clothes! Weird rant aside, ChiCho out!


	19. Chapter 19

**S** is for:

_sweet_

Matt hummed quietly as he sat on his front porch, legs hung over the edge and swinging, as he waited for this year's first batch of trick-or-treaters.

"You have weird traditions." Gil mumbled, collapsing next to him with a bowl of candy.

"I think it's fun." Matt smiled as a sheet-ghost that couldn't have been any taller than two feet shyly approached, an un-costumed mother waiting anxiously by the curb.

"U-um, trick or treat!" The little kid yelped, plastic container held out.

Matt laughed. "Here you go. Have a safe Halloween." He dropped a handful of sweets into the bucket, and the kid thanked him before running away.

Gil shook his head. "Weird traditions." He repeated. Matt didn't comment on the fact that Gilbert had checked the kitchen three times to make sure every single knife was put away.

_sold_

Gil glared at the 'sold' sign decorating the yard next door. He'd _liked_ the people who had lived there before, or at least, had liked tormenting them. Now there was going to be _new_ people, and that rubbed him the wrong way.

He scowled at the moving van that backed up into the driveway, and at the family car that had preceded it. He wandered over, wondering what the newest pain in his ass looked like.

It was purely force of will that stopped him from gasping when he saw the first one that out of the car. Gil wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't what he got.

The man, oblivious to Gil's internal dilemma, opened the back door of his car and patted his knees. A large white dog jumped out obediently.

"Good boy, Kumaloro. I know it's strange here, but you'll get used to it, won't you boy?" He cooed.

Gil just about fainted at the sound of his voice. _My God, that accent._

"Oh, hello. Are you my neighbor? I'm Matthew." He smiled.

"Uh, yeah. I live right here," Gil jerked a thumb over his shoulder, "so if you need anything, feel free to come. Come ask, I mean." Matthew giggled.

"Hey Matt, who's your new friend?" A second man, almost identical to Matt, swung his arm around his shoulder, grinning.

"I don't know yet. It's a good question, though." Both twins-they had to be twins, there was no other explanation-looked at him expectantly.

"I'm Gilbert."

Matthew smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Gilbert. I hope we can get along." And with that, he and his still-nameless brother walked toward the house. Gil didn't even pretend to not watch them walk away.

_I've never tried seducing my neighbor before…_

_staple_

Gil didn't know how he had been reduced to doing secretary work, but he did know that it had something to do with Matt's big violet eyes, and the hockey stick he kept tapping against the floor.

However it had happened, he was currently stapling stacks of paper together while Matt, at the desk across from him, signed…stuff.

_He's really cute when he's focused._ Gil mused absently, watching the way Matt's bangs brushed against his face, the way the light reflected off his glasses and hid his eyes, the way he bit his bottom lip, just slightly.

"Fuck!" Gil yelped, looking at the staple embedded in his fingertip.

Matt looked up and shook his head when he saw what Gil had done to himself. "Sometimes I wonder how you managed to survive for so long on your own." He teased with a grin.

Gil just grunted and continued staring at his finger, trying to figure out how to remove the staple with the least amount of collateral damage.

_sultry_

"What's the temperature _now_?" Gil whined, fanning himself with folded up paper.

Matt lifted his head weakly to squint at the thermometer. "29."

"That's two degrees hotter than it was last time I asked." Gil groaned.

Matt didn't answer, just pulled his sticky hair from the back of his neck.

A wicked smile found its way onto Gil's face, and he dragged himself off the porch and into the kitchen. He returned triumphantly, carton of vanilla ice cream hidden behind his back. He smirked, noticing that Matt had his eyes closed. Both of their shirts lay in a pile in the grass, sacrifices made to the oppressive heat.

"Ah!" Matt yelped when he felt something cold and wet land on his stomach. He tried to sit up, and found himself held down by Gil's forearm across his collarbone.

"Oops. Looks like I made a mess." Gil flashed Matt a predator's grin, before running his tongue from the waistband of his pants to his navel.

"Gil…my neighbors..."

"Are inside." Gil licked a smudge of ice cream, pleased to feel Matt shiver beneath him despite the heat. "So I think," he dipped his fingers in the carton, and wrote 'eigentum von Gilbert Beilschmidt' on his chest, "that we should have some fun."

..

It's almost Halloween! Yay! Halloween is my favorite holiday! Anyway, some cultural notes on Halloween: In Germany, it's tradition to put away your knives on Halloween night, to protect the returning spirits from harm. In Canada, people make Jack O' Lanterns (pumpkins with faces carved into them) and trick or treat. Trick or treating is basically harassing your neighbors for candy while in costume. It's really fun, and me and my friends are all going together this year, even though we're all a little old. Well, Joe's sister isn't, and Kelshyn _looks_ young enough. And a 'sheet-ghost' is like the stereotypical un-creative Halloween costume, and consists of a plain white sheet with eye holes cut out of draped over the trick-or-treater. Anyway. On another note, I absolutely _adore_ foreign accents of any kind. Also, 29 C is approximately 84 F and two feet is about two thirds of a meter.  
Eigentum von Gilbert Beilschmidt-property of Gilbert Beilschmidt.  
ChiCho out!


	20. Chapter 20

**T** is for:

_tattoo_

Matthew yawned and rubbed his eyes. He sat up slowly, the sound of water on his roof explaining the lack of sunlight.

"Guten Morgen." Gil mumbled, pulling the blanket over his head.

Matt hmmed and opened the window, leaning out slightly to hold his hand in the rain. "It smells nice outside."

Gil propped himself on his elbows, blanket slipping back down. "What are you talking about?" His accent was thick with sleep, and Matt smiled.

"The rain always makes everything smell good." Matt explained, and tugged on Gil's hand in an attempt to get him out of bed. Gil sighed, and stumbled obediently to the window.

After a deep inhale, Gil had to admit that Matt had a point.

A splash of color caught Matt's eye, and he pressed his fingertips against it. "I've noticed this before, but I've never asked: what's with the tattoo?"

Gil looked at the indicated spot, on the sharp curve of his hipbone. "That? It was a dare. Me and Westen were both pretty drunk, and Francis dared us to get matching tattoos. Bruder's is on the other side." He tapped the approximate location.

"But what's it a tattoo _of?_"

"None of us can quite figure that out, actually. I can't remember, and neither can Ludwig. Francis was laughing too hard through the whole thing to have known in the first place."

_translate_

Gil snickered. "I love Americans. I still don't like Al, but damn I love Americans."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Why's that?"

"Cuz I can yell nonsense syllables at them, and all they'll hear is the accent and the words they don't know and just assume I'm actually speaking German." Matt grimaced. It didn't reflect well on his brother, but Gil had a point. "One time, Toni, and Francis, and me all went around D.C. screaming whatever popped into our heads at people that walked by. Someone called the cops on us, so we flashed 'em our ID's, and they went and got the _president_, and Al was with him. It was hilarious, we were all pretending we didn't speak English, and Al was freaking out, and the secret service was whispering into those walkie-talkie things the whole time." Gil cackled at the memory, drawing a few stares from passerby.

"Which president was it?" Matt asked, though not without some trepidation.

"The one before this one, had the name like a plant."

_transcontinental_

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Matt winced at the loud sound. "Coming," he called absently. "Hello?" He opened the door to find Sweden, holding a rather large sword. "Can I help you?"

"Wh're's Pr'ss'a." Sweden growled.

Matt winced. "Gil, you have a visitor," he yelled over his shoulder. "He should be out in a second." He added to the furious Nordic on his doorstep.

"Who's here to see my awesome self?" Gil asked, swinging around the corner and into view. "Oh. It's you. Who jammed a stick up your ass?"

"Fr'nce said you h'd T'no." With this he pulled the aforementioned country from behind him. Francis smiled weakly, giving a pained wave.

Gil snorted. "He'd say anything to get out of a beat-down. Check his basement."

Sweden drew France up face-to-face with him. France tried to be strong, but quickly broke under the pressure and started babbling in French. Sweden looked at Matt expectantly.

"Ah, he says Arthur was having trouble with Peter, so he got Tino to help him out. And he's very, very sorry."

_time_

Matt frowned at the gold cross in Gil's hair. "What's that?"

"A hair pin." Gil answered evasively.

"Obviously. But I've never seen it in your stuff. Where'd you get it?" The pin looked almost familiar to Matt, like he'd seen it somewhere before, but on someone else.

"I got it up North." Was all Gil said.

"It looks, now that I think about it, a lot like Norway's hair clip." Matt noted. Gil winced guiltily, but covered it quickly with a laugh.

"You think so? Maybe his style is almost as awesome as mine." Gil nodded, hands on his hips.

"Hm." Matt picked up his address book and began flipping through it, stopping at 'N'. He ran his finger down the list, fished his phone out of his pocket, and dialed a number. "Hello, Norway? This is Canada…America's brother, that's right…You're busy? I could call back later. What are you doing?...Really? That's quite the coincidence, because I think Prussia has something of yours…That's right…You're sending Denmark over for it? I'll be on the lookout for him. Tell Iceland I said hi…That's right, Canada. Good bye." Matt smirked at Gil. "I suggest you take that out." He nodded toward the clip.

"_Denmark_ is coming? He's crazy! He's a fucking Viking, for God's sake! He's gonna chop your door down with that ax he carries around all the time!"

"You should have thought of that before you stole something of Norway's."

..

The Nordics are my latest obsession; can you tell? A couple people asked, so I suppose I'll tell: I'm dressing as a cowgirl-witch for Halloween. Weird, I know.  
Guten Morgen-good morning. (Thanks to Arra for the correction)  
I'm going to get a tattoo 16 days after my 18th birthday. See, my best friend's birthday is 16 days after mine, and her uncle is a tattoo artist, so we're both going to get ours done together. Sweet, right? And time for some random trivia: in the comic strip _Arlo and Janis_, the cat's name is Ludwig. ChiCho out!


	21. Chapter 21

**U** is for:

_umbilical_

"Why do we have belly buttons?" Gil wondered aloud, poking at his own.

"Well, belly buttons are remnants of where the umbilical cord—"

"No, no, not why do normal people have belly buttons, why do _we_, nations, have them? We weren't born in a way that would require an umbilical cord, so why do we have belly buttons?"

Matt stared at him for a second. "If you're going to go that route, couldn't you also ask why we exist at all?"

Gil laughed humorlessly. "I guess I could."

"Do you want the religious explanation, the scientific one, or my own personal belief?" Matt cocked his head, half-teasing, half-serious.

"All three."

"For appearance or just our existence in general?" It had somehow become a game.

"Appearance; let's keep this light."

_unusual_

"Excuse me, mister?" Gil looked down at the little kid pulling on his sleeve. "Are you like me?"

At first Gil thought he was asking if he was a nation, but then he took a closer look at the boy and realized what he meant. "Yeah, I am." He crouched in front of him.

"I've never met anyone else like me before." Wide red eyes watched Gil from behind snowy bangs.

"We're special, Kid. Always remember that. And if anyone ever tries to pick on you, beat 'em up!" Gil grinned, and ruffled the boy's hair.

"Mommy says it's not nice to beat people up."

'Mommy' then took the boy's hand. "Come on, sweetie, we have to go now. Say good-bye to the nice man."

"Good bye!"

"Bye, Kid." The boy left, grinning and laughing up at his mother.

"You're good with children." Matt noted, watching them leave.

"I guess. Most of them run away from me, though, or start crying, or hide behind their parents." Gil pulled a folded up hat out of his pocket, and tugged it over his hair self-consciously.

Matt smiled slightly, and laced his fingers together with Gilbert's.

_unwelcome_

"Hello, Germany. I-is Prussia home?" Matt smiled nervously at the admittedly rather intimidating man whose doorstep he was currently occupying.

"He is."

"Um, could I talk to him?"

Germany sighed. "If this is about whatever it was he was doing last night, just please don't get blood on my carpet, America." He stepped back to let his guest inside.

"I'm not America. I'm C-Canada." Matt wrung his hands inside the pocket of his hoodie, wishing vainly for Kumajirou's comforting weight in his arms.

Germany gave him a blank look, but didn't question him. "If you could just wait here for a moment…" Matt nodded, and Germany left to fetch his brother.

"Oh, hey Vögelchen." Gil grinned at his visitor, and Ludwig frowned upon hearing the nickname. "What are you doing here?"

"You asked me to drop by." Gil noticed that Matt's posture changed, his shoulders slumped and his head dropped slightly.

"Oh! Yeah, I guess I did, didn't I? I totally forgot. I'm sorry…"

The rest of the sentence was lost on Ludwig. _How come he'll apologize to, to…to whoever that is for forgetting something, but can trash my house and just shrug at me?_

"Want something to eat? I bet there are some leftovers from the pasta Feli made last night."

_unique_

"Gonna freeze to death, falling asleep in the snow like that." Gil brushed his hand over Matt's face, absently cursing his gloves. "I guess I should wake you up, huh? But I'm not sure I really want to. I wonder if you'd wake up if I carried you inside. Your door _is_ locked, though." Gil hummed softly, running his fingers through Matt's hair.

"Hm." Matt turned his face toward Gil's hand. Gil froze for a moment, but decided that Matt was still asleep, and resumed his petting.

Gil frowned at Matt's back door. "If you're out here, I bet you didn't lock it, did you?" He stood reluctantly, and trekked across Matt's yard. The door, sure enough, had been left unlocked. "All right, Birdie, let's find out how heavy you are."

With a huff, Gil worked one arm under the crook of Matt's knees, and slid the other around his shoulders. He stood carefully, swaying slightly under the extra weight. "Heavier than you look." Gil grunted, shuffling toward the house. He carefully maneuvered his way to Matt's living room, and set him down on the couch.

When Matt woke up, Gil's head was resting on his stomach. "Did I fall asleep outside again?" He whispered, trying not to wake Gilbert. "I bet I did." Gil stirred, lifting his head.

"Frostbitten anywhere?" Gil teased, smiling sleepily.

"Nope. Thanks for bringing me in, but wouldn't it have been easier to just wake me up?"

..

Vögelchen-birdie.  
I really can't think of any notes to add to this chapter. It seems pretty complete. Well then, I guess there is nothing more to say besides: ChiCho out!


	22. Chapter 22

**V** is for:

_violin_

Gil frowned at the sound of violin music drifting through the house. _Is Roddy here?_ He sat up slowly, squinting against the sunlight. _Who opened my blinds?_

With a yawn, Gil dragged himself out of bed, stumbling downstairs to investigate the source of the music.

Matt was sitting cross-legged on his living room floor, violin held expertly at his shoulder. Ludwig and Roderich, sitting on the couch, looked on in appreciation. Matt's eyes were focused on the violin, narrowed slightly with concentration.

Gil leaned against the doorframe, watching as Matt continued to play. _He's good, _he noted absently.

"Oh! Gil! You're finally up." The music faltered only slightly when Matt noticed him. A slight smile graced his lips as he returned his attention to the violin.

_visit_

"Um…Gil, what are you doing here?" Matt cocked his head inquisitively.

"Visiting you, duh. What else would I be doing here?" Gil put his hands on his hips, grinning sharkily.

"I don't know. I wouldn't have asked if I did."

"True, true. Anyway! I am here to fill your life with awesome for the next week!" Gil announced.

"Ludwig kicked you out again, didn't he?" Matt rolled his eyes at Gil's sheepish expression.

"Vielleicht." Gil looked carefully over Matt's shoulder, casually avoiding eye contact.

"Since you won't give me an answer I understand, I'll take that as a yes."

_velocity_

"But it doesn't make any sense!" Gil whined, shoving his math homework toward Matt.

"It _does_ make sense, if you just reason it out." Matt insisted, pushing the book back gently. "Now come on, question 22."

"Why should I bother learning it if I'm not going to use it?"

Matt sighed. "Gil, let's say you have a triangular window."

"Okay."

"And you know what two of the sides are, but the third one is too high for you to reach. You can only measure one of the angles. You need to know the other side and angles. Still following me?"

"Yeah."

"So how would you figure it out?"

"Well, I'd use the law of si…you're an asshole, Mattie."

"No, I'm your tutor. Focus, Gil. Question 22." Matt tapped the paper with his pencil.

"Uh, 'Solve a triangle with the given measures: _a_=12, _b_=11, and _mA_=62.' So I'd use the law of sines to figure it out?"

Matt nodded. "Now compared to what you were complaining about last week, isn't this easy?"

"Yeah, I guess. What was it last week, anyway, velocity?"

_vortex_

"Once, when we were little, Arthur took Al and me to the beach." Matt muttered, watching the sunset over the sea.

"Only once?" Gil questioned, arm around Matt's shoulders, as he sat next to him on the porch rail of the beach house they had rented.

"Yeah. We scared him so bad he never dared take us again." Matt absently followed the gulls with his eyes.

"How'd you manage that?" Gil ran his hand down Matt's arm, feeling sand scrape against his palm.

"We were playing in a tide pool when the tide came back in. Those can get pretty deep, and neither of us knew how to swim at the time. It caused a miniature whirlpool, the way the current hit the rocks. Arthur barely managed to get us out. We nearly drowned." Matt slid his arm around Gil's waist, but did nothing further, content to just watch the sunset with him.

"How'd Artie take it?"

"He broke down in tears. We really scared him, I guess. He thought he was going to lose us." The wind whipped across the water, spraying foam.

Gil kissed Matt's temple, tasted brine and sand. "I'd cry if I lost you. But you'd never make me cry, would you Birdie?"

"Never intentionally." Matt rested his head on Gil's shoulder as the last light faded into the water.

"It's getting cold; we should go in." Gil jumped lightly to the porch.

"Yeah." Matt followed suit, broken pieces of seashells uncomfortable under his feet.

Once they were inside, with the door shut behind them, Gil pulled Matt against him, and crushed their lips together. "You taste like the ocean, Birdie."

_violet_

"Hey Mattie, what are these flowers called?" Gil gestured to a patch of purple flowers sprouting from the snow.

"Those are prairie crocuses. They're Manitoba's flower." Matt smiled at the lavender blooms. He had a special place in his heart for the various provincial and territorial flowers of his country.

"They're nice. I still prefer cornflowers, though." Gil smirked slightly, and Matt rolled his eyes.

"The color does suit you." Matt admitted, tugging at Gil's cornflower blue scarf.

Gil plucked one of the prairie crocuses, and held it up next to Matt's face. "It's okay, but darker violets look better on you." Matt rolled his eyes again.

"You know, Newfoundland and Labrador both have a carnivorous plant as their flower."

"Seriously? Which one?" Gil tucked the flower behind Matt's ear, prompting an exasperated sigh.

"The pitcher plant." Matt adjusted the bloom so that it wouldn't fall out of place.

"The one that digest the bugs while they're still alive?"

"That would be the one."

..

I love carnivorous plants. They won't grow very well in my climate, though. *sigh*  
Vielleicht-maybe.  
I don't know how to play any musical instruments. When asked, I tell people I play the larynx. Which is true, actually. I love singing. Um, let's see, what else…Manitoba, Newfoundland, and Labrador are all provinces/territories of Canada, and, as far as I know, I have the flower's right. The cornflower was Prussia's national flower. I think. Anyway, 'cause we're so close, the 100th reviewer gets an omake chapter with the prompt of their choice dedicated to them. With the bribe out of the way, ChiCho out!


	23. Chapter 23

**W** is for:

_whisper_

Gilbert screamed. The sound tore from his throat, ragged and sharp. Matt was awake in less than a second, braced for an intruder that didn't exist. Gilbert thrashed, expression inscrutable, pitiful whimpers echoing into the night.

"Gil, Gil what's wrong?" Matt bit his lip when he realized that Gil was still asleep. "Shh, it's alright. It's alright." Matt tentatively placed his hand on a sweat-damp cheek. Gilbert's hand jerked up and tightened around Matt's wrist. Ruby eyes shot open, though they didn't see the scene in front of them.

"Russische Hurensohn," he hissed, grip becoming painful.

"Gilbert, it's me, Matthew. Mattie." Gilbert's eyes widened slowly.

"Matt…" His gaze traveled to his vice-like hold of Matt's hand. He could feel bone digging into his palm. He released his grip. "Sorry," he whispered.

"It's okay." Matt resisted the urge to rub at the bruise he knew was forming around his wrist. He'd just wear long sleeves for a few days. Gilbert never had to know.

_whole_

"What. _The hell_. Is _that?_" Gil pointed at the large gourd on Matt's porch.

"A pumpkin." Matt grinned.

"That is not a pumpkin. Pumpkins are barely bigger than footballs. That, that _thing_ is the size of a fucking house."

"It's not _that_ big. I was thinking that maybe we could carve it." Matt patted it affectionately.

"Why would we want to carve it? Shouldn't we just burn the damn thing whole? I think it's cursed, or haunted, or some shit." Gil nodded reaffirmingly.

"I thought Al was the only one who believed in ghosts." Matt teased, already sketching potential designs on the clipboard he had brought out with him.

_well_

"Che. How does that make any sense? Can they read the dog's mind, or something?" Gil grumbled at the television that was currently showing reruns of _Lassie_.

"You can always watch something else, you know." Matt patted the white head on his way to the door.

"There's nothing else on! Your stupid brother can't come up with any good TV shows." Despite his harsh opinion, Gil started flipping through the channels offered by the D.C. hotel that Alfred had booked for the upcoming World Conference.

Matt rolled his eyes. "What kind of take-out do you want me to get?"

Gil, who had returned to _Lassie_, ignored the question. "How the fuck can they tell that the kid fell into the well? I just don't get it."

_wash_

"Come on, Kumarilo, just hold still for a minute, okay?" Matt pleaded, arms up to his elbows already soaked and bubbly. The bear paid him no mind, continuing to try to walk out of the metal tub.

"You're never gonna get that thing clean." Gil remarked, leaning against a tree. Matt, wearing nothing but a pair of swimming trunks and already rather sun burnt, stuck his tongue out.

"I've managed this before; I can do it again." Matt insisted, even as Kumajirou attempted to escape yet again. "Look, I don't like this any more than you do." He told the pet. "But we're both just going to have to suck it up and get through with this." He started trying to rub dog shampoo into Kumajirou's fur. Kuma was having none of it.

"Don't need to be washed."

Matt put soapy hands on his hips to better glare sternly at his bear. "Yes, you do. You smell worse than Ludwig's dogs after they've been playing in his compost pile." Gil snickered at the comparison.

..

That chapter was really short… My friend (who I'm also crushing on, but that's an AN for another day) recommended to me this awesome German band, Wir sind Helden. My favorite song by them is "Alles". You should totally go search them on youtube! …That sounded like Poland…I actually am a cross-dresser, by the way. The opposite way Feliks does. It's hard to breath with your chest bound!  
Russische Hurensohn-Russian son of a bitch.  
Lilanac was the 100th reviewer, so she gets to choose the prompt for chapter 27. But you all win in the end, so no hard feelings, right? ChiCho out!


	24. Chapter 24

**X** is for:

_xanadu_

"I can't believe I let you drag me here." Matt muttered, shaking his head. Gil just grinned at him.

"It won't be that bad." Gil soothed.

"But he always mistakes me for Al! I can't believe I'm here. Alejandro is going to kill me."

"Just relax, Mattie. Have fun." Gil took Matt's hand and pulled the still-protesting nation toward the deck of their hotel room.

"I guess… it is kind of nice here." Matt admitted, leaning against the balcony rail. "I wouldn't call it xanadu, but still…it's nice."

"Yup. Not as awesome as Germany, 'specially Eastern Germany, but not bad."

Matt just rolled his eyes.

_xyloid_

Gil curled his lips back. "What's that?" He pointed to the plant held in Matt's hands.

"It's ivy, to plant around the house. I've always thought that houses with ivy growing on them looked nice, so…" Matt shrugged.

"It looks like some kind of miniature tree." Gil frowned as he inspected the xyloid plant.

"Um…" No matter how hard he looked, Matt couldn't see any resemblance to the ivy's larger arboreal cousins.

_xylograph_

Never having been colonized, Prussia couldn't really understand the way Canada's face lit up whenever he found an artifact in his land that looked as if it belonged in another. Gil, however, found that he didn't really care why Matt was so pleased by these things, but was instead simply happy that he was.

"So, what's that one?" Gil cocked his head, examining the strange wooden object in Matt's hand.

"It's a Norse xylograph. It depicts one of the legends of Odin." And Matt grinned at him, glowing and sweet and earnest.

"What's it doing here, though?"

"The Norse found North America in approximately 1000. They called the area they landed in Vinland, which is modern-day Newfoundland." Matt explained, turning the artifact over in his hands.

"Uh-huh." Gil didn't sound all that enthused.

Matt put his hands on his hips. "You're not very excited about this."

"Uh, sorry?" Gil's tone was decidedly unconvinced.

_xanthocomic_

Gil ran his fingers through Matt's hair, humming softly. The golden strands slid easily over his fingers, velvety soft.

"What are you thinking?" Matt shifted slightly to look at Gil as he asked the question.

"Nothing, really. Why?" Gil continued the slow petting.

"I don't know. Why not?" Matt nuzzled his face into Gil's side, toes pressed against the bottom of the sleeping bag.

"Touché."

"Either you've been spending too much time with Francis, or you've been spending too much time with me." Matt noted.

"Nur du, Vögelchen." Gil stretched, and his hands brushed the side of the tent.

"Taking you camping was a good idea." Matt tossed an arm across Gil's chest.

"That was pretty random." Gil watched shadows move across the outside of the canvas. "I wonder what's out there."

"Probably just moose, or something."

"_Just_ moose? One of those things could probably step on us and not even notice!" Gil immediately drew his hands away from the edges.

"They may be big, but they're not that big."

Gil snickered. "So then, does that mean that the saying 'everything's bigger in America' only applies to the country, and not the continent?"

"Okay, one, it's supposed to be Texas, not America. And two, you're an ass." Matt half-heartedly smacked Gil's arm.

"Yeah, my ass is pretty fine, innit?" Gil slapped the body part in question.

"Did you just say 'innit'? Mon Dieu, I'm never letting you near Alfred again." Matt put his face in his hands.

"Whay's that, dahlin'?" Gil drawled with a smirk.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Someone's going to shoot you one day."

..

Alejandro=Cuba. Alejandro was the ninth most popular male name in Cuba in '01.  
Nur du, Vögelchen-Only you, Birdie.  
Mon Dieu-My God.  
Xanadu- paradise. Xyloid- woody, wood-like. Xylograph- wood carving. Xanthocomic- yellow-haired.  
I'm allowed to mock Southern drawls because I have one. Not a particularly pronounced one, but I can't help it. I live in East Tennessee for Gawd's sake! Innyway, ChiCho out!


	25. Chapter 25

**Y** is for:

_yearn_

"Hello?" Matt held the phone to his ear, wondering who is caller was.

"Bonjour, Matthieu. Gilbert est à la maison?" Francis sounded weary.

"Ah, oui." Matt pulled the phone back. "Gil, Francis wants to talk to you."

"'Kay… Yo Francis. What's up?"

"I dreamt about her." Francis sighed, the sound coming across as static. "I can't sleep. I can't eat. I…I can't stop thinking about her."

"I know, Francis, I know."

"Yes, you do, don't you? I get like this every year, and every year you put up with me. I'm sorry for putting you through this, you and Antoine. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing. None of this is your fault. And if I can't be here for you when you need me, then what kind of lame-ass friend am I?"

"You're right. I'm fine now, I guess. I probably just needed to talk to someone. I'll be seeing you around. Good bye."

"Yeah, bye. Get some sleep, Francis." Gil hung up the phone, looking oddly serious.

Matt watched him for a moment. "What was that about?"

"You're too young to know this, aren't you? Well, once upon a time, Francis fell in love." Gil smiled slightly at Matt's disbelieving expression. "It was with a woman named Joan of Arc."

"Th-_the_ Joan of Arc? Hundred-Years-War-burned-at-the-stake Joan of Arc?" Gil winced at the description.

"The very same. And Francis loved her. He knew that she would die before he did, but he never expected it to be so sudden, or brutal."

"He never told me…" Matt whispered.

"I'm not surprised. He doesn't like to talk about it. He gets like this every May. He has dreams about her, of her burning and him being unable to save her. He was so depressed after she died that me and Antonio were afraid to leave him alone for a while."

_yellow_

"Green one, safety." Matt punched Gil lightly in the arm.

"Uh, okay. Do I want to know what that was about?" Gil watched a lime Volkswagen drive away, slowed to obey the school-zone speed limit.

"Well, the kids at Al's place play this game where every time they see a Volkswagen Beetle they have to call out the color and the word 'safety'. The first one to do that punches the other people in the arm."

"I think I ge—yellow one, safety!" Gil grinned, and Matt rubbed his arm, though he couldn't help but smile back.

_yawn_

Gil stared stubbornly at Roderich, who heaved a long-suffering sigh and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Gilbert, this is ridiculous." Gil ignored the statement in favor of continuing to gaze on.

"How long can he keep this up?" Matt asked Elizaveta.

"I think he once managed to go for three hours straight without blinking. We were just kids at the time, so I don't know how that might have changed since then." Elizaveta put her hands on her hips and shook her head.

Gil yawned widely, eyes watering but still open.

"Why did you choose me, of all people, to stare at?" Roderich didn't really expect an answer.

He didn't get one.

Kumajirou nudged the door open and waddled in, bringing with him a wave of fresh air.

Gil sneezed violently when a dandelion puff landed directly on his nose. "Verdammt! I had almost broken my record!"

_you_

"You're unbelievable, Gilbert. America is either going to kill _you_, or declare war on _me_." Ludwig glared sternly at his brother.

"It's not that bad, West. I mean, it's not like I kidnapped him or anything. He's here of his own free will, and conscious and sober and everything!" Gil insisted.

Arthur, the subject of their conversation, turned to Matt. "How long are they going to argue in German?"

"I have no idea. I wish I'd managed to learn _useful_ German from Gil, then I might have a clue as to what they were fighting about."

"I should've thought to bring my phone…" Arthur mused, as the siblings continued to bicker.

..

I don't know what was going on in _you_, but I have to get off the computer, oh, about _now_, so this is going to have to be short.  
Bonjour, Matthieu. Gilbert est à la maison?-Hello Matthew. Is Gilbert home?  
Joan of Arc was burned at the stake in England for being a witch because she claimed to have received visions from God. She died on May 30, 14someyearinthe30sthatIdon'tremember. The game in _yellow_ is a real game, I play it with my friends. It probably has different variations. [I just lost The Game. And yes, I _did_ just go there. If you don't know what The Game is, feel free to ask.] ChiCho out!


	26. Chapter 26

**Z** is for:

_zealous_

"…please feel free to come see us at the United Church of Christ! Remember, we're open on Sunday's!" The smiling woman handed Matt and Gil pamphlets, saying that she hoped to see them. Matt nodded politely, but Gil just stared at the paper, brows furrowed.

Matt elbowed him gently. "What's up? Not really religious?"

Gil snorted. "I'm what you'd call a, a…verfallene katholischen...what would that be in English?...lapsed Catholic, that's it."

"I see." Matt really didn't, but he refrained from prying anyway.

"It's no special distinction, actually. Most of Europe falls into that category in one way or another."

As they walked by an electronics store, hand-in-hand, a political talk show played a clip of a Catholic priest denouncing homosexuality. Gil tensed, and Matt thought he understood why he described himself as 'lapsed'.

_zest_

"Matt! Matt! Ma—"

"I swear to God, Al, if you yell my name one more time I'm going to shoot you." Matt slammed the front door open to glare at the American nuisance.

"I just wanted pancakes." Al pouted.

"It's the middle of the night!"

"But Gilbert drops by your house for pancakes at all kinds of crazy hours, and you never yell at him! Do you like him better than me, or something?" Al queried, hands on his hips.

"Gilbert is my friend, I have to like him at least a little. You, on the other hand, are my brother, and as such, I have no obligation to even be able to _tolerate_ you, let alone actually _like_ you." Matt nodded, pleased with his explanation. "However, because I was going to make some anyway, you may have a few pancakes."

"Sweet!"

Matt rolled his eyes and led his chattering brother into the kitchen.

After a few minutes, Matt set a plate full of pancakes onto the table in front of Al, who didn't notice their faint reddish tint. "Enjoy." Nor did he notice Matt's smug tone.

Five and a half pancakes later, Al finally noticed the taste. "H-hot!" He gulped the conveniently placed water, which only intensified and spread the burning sensation.

"So what'd you put in 'em?" Gil asked, leaning against the refrigerator.

"Oh, nothing much. I suppose they're probably a bit zestier than usual." Matt smirked as he put a glass jar of cayenne pepper back in his cupboard.

"I'm glad you love me, 'cause if you didn't, I'd probably be afraid of you, and being afraid of a cute little thing like you is _not_ awesome."

_zeppola_

"What are you cooking?" Matt put his arms around Gil's waist and leaned around him to watch the process.

"I'm making zeppole. Feli taught me how." Gil continued beating the eggs, slowly adding vanilla, Ricotta cheese, and all the other ingredients.

"What's zeppole?" Matt smiled as Gil referred back to a recipe, hastily scribbled in German.

"It's like an Italian donut." Gil explained, beginning to drop clumps of the batter into hot oil. "You can fill them with all sorts of stuff."

"Sounds good. How long do they take?"

"About three minutes." Gil set the timer and checked his recipe again. "Yeah, three minutes or 'until golden brown'. What does that mean anyway, 'golden brown'? Is it supposed to be golden, or brown?" Gil shook his head. "I just don't get it."

_zoophage_

"We're both zoophages." Gil announced.

"Come again?"

Gil leered. "Maybe later, sweetheart. But I'm serious. And it's not just us. In fact, most humans are zoophages."

"And what, dare I ask, is a zoophage?" Matt raised a curious eyebrow.

"Jemand, der Tiere isst." Gil grinned.

"Fine then, be that way." Matt stuck his tongue out, and Gil mirrored the gesture. They stayed like that for nearly a full minute before they both started laughing.

"I'm still not going to tell you." Gil added, still snickering.

"I figured as much."

_zootoxin_

"You're not seriously going to eat that, are you?" Matt frowned suspiciously at the fugu on Gil's fork.

"Yup." With no more pomp and circumstance, Gil shoved the fish into his mouth. "B'shides, ish not like it can k'll me." The food slurred his speech almost to the point of incoherence.

"I know that, but it might be able to paralyze you for a while." Matt pointed out as Gil's Adam's apple bobbed and more food was brought to his lips.

Gil ignored him and continued to eat.

"I suppose there isn't that much risk. I mean, to be qualified to cook this you have to have a special degree or something like that, right?" Matt turned to Japan, who was still wearing his apron and watching Gil nervously.

"That is true, America-san. However, this is my first attempt at preparing it." Japan fiddled with the scarf he had had tied over his hair. "B-but I am sure that it is fine! I was very careful to remove all the parts that could hold the toxin."

"I'm not…never mind. You're sure you cooked it right?" Matt hugged Kumajirou tightly.

"…yes…"

Matt wasn't sure if the hesitation was simply due to Japan's speech pattern, or if it indicated a lack of confidence in his culinary skill.

"Want fish." Kumajirou attempted to squirm free.

"You can't eat that, Kumalucky, it might be poisonous." Matt adjusted his grip on the bear.

"Want fish."

"Ah, I believe I might have some tuna your bear could have. If he is allowed to eat it?" Japan smiled anxiously.

"Oh, you don't have to do that. I'll feed him whe—"

"Want fish."

"I guess it couldn't hurt." Matt set Kumajirou down and let him follow Japan into his kitchen.

"Damn, that was _good_." Gil groaned and put his hands on his stomach. "I'm _stuffed_."

"I'm glad your poison-fish was good." Matt watched Kumajirou gobble the offered yellow fin.

Gil grinned. "And look, wonder of wonders, I'm not dead."

"Yet."

..

A zeppola is kind of Italian pastry similar to a donut. A zoophage is an organism that consumes animals.  
Jemand, der Tiere isst-Someone who eats animals.  
A zootoxin is a poison derived from an animal. Fugu is a type of Japanese blowfish that is _extremely_ toxic. A special degree is necessary to prepare it for public consumption. Yellow fin is a type of tuna.  
I can't think of anything else I should add to this… Well, yesterday a lot of people at my school got together and wore purple to honor the memories of the gay teenagers who have recently been driven to suicide by the taunting of their so-called 'peers'. It really pissed me off to see people that I had heard, time and time again, gay-bashing wearing purple when they knew _exactly_ what it symbolized.  
Anyway, tomorrow a bunch of people are going to wear pink because October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, this week is BCA week, and tomorrow is BCA day. I've been wearing little spots of pink all month. Pink for the cure!  
Remember, this isn't the last chapter. There will be one more, the prize omake. I'll try to get it out tomorrow. ChiCho out!


	27. OMAKE

**.:OMAKE:.**

The rain pounded, steady and unceasing and incessant and _thunderous_, so loud and unstoppable that it made Gilbert's head spin. He turned the radio up in a futile attempt to drown it out, which only made it seem more cacophonous in comparison. Matthew sighed, and leaned over the back of the couch to switch the little battery-powered device off. Gilbert reached to take it back, only to have it pulled just out of reach. "S'too quiet without it." He protested, fingers closing vainly around empty air.

"We should save the batteries for the flashlights; we don't know how long the power will be out." Matthew removed and pocketed the alkaline objects before handing the now-useless radio back.

"I guess." Gilbert grumbled absently, suddenly transfixed by the lightning framing the wind-swept tree line. Thunder cracked like a celestial whip, rendering the rain momentarily muffled.

"Have you ever thought about the fact that, when stripped of all the things that make us 'civilized', we're really at the whim of the elements as much as we always were?" Matthew settled onto the couch, legs curled beneath him.

"Not really." Gilbert admitted. "Why?"

"I don't know." They watched the rain, both silent for what seemed like hours. "Gilbert?"

"Yeah?" Gilbert shifted to face Matthew, illuminated only by the occasional flash of lightning.

Matthew murmured something softly, in a language Gilbert didn't recognize.

"What?"

"'I love you' in Inuktitut." Matthew explained quietly. "It seemed more appropriate to say it in the language of one of the few that still respect nature's whims."

"Oh. Ich liebe dich will have to do from me." Gilbert smiled crookedly.

Matthew smiled back, and settled against Gilbert's side.

,,

Gilbert squinted against the sun. "Shoulda closed the blinds…" he mumbled.

"You're the one that wanted to watch the rain." Matthew pointed out, futilely flipping a light switch.

"Still no power?" Matthew nodded. "Are you getting any cell reception?" Gilbert scowled at his phone. "'Cause I'm not."

"I told you before you came up here that you wouldn't."

"Yeah, yeah." Gilbert stretched tiredly. "At least the storm stopped."

"But all the roads are iced over, so we still can't go anywhere." Matthew opened the door anyway, slipping into the frigid outside world. "Come out here, and help me get some firewood."

Gilbert grumbled something incoherent, but did as he was told.

..

…it's…decent, I guess. I'm sorry it took me so long; I'm sorry it's so short; I'm sorry it's so lame…dedicated to Lilanac, and from the prompt "You know it will always just be me" from _Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking her Clothes Off_ by Panic! At the Disco. (P!AtD is one of my favorite bands, and this song is really good.  
Anyway, in the hope that this might help make up for it, I'm including a preview of the story that's been taking up this one's brainspace. So, without further ado, I present to you _Haunted House_:

Gilbert scowled at the man arranging the dry goods in the cupboards. _Gilbert's_ cupboards. Well, actually Ludwig was the only one to ever put away (or even buy) any groceries, but _still_, it was the spirit of the thing!

_Spirit. Keeseese._ Gilbert laughed mentally at his own (bad) pun. Not expecting the stranger to be able to hear him (none of the others before had) Gilbert leaned against the counter and loudly intoned, "Boo."

,,

Matthew jumped, and spun to face the intruder. "Who's there?" He demanded, kitchen knife he had grabbed from the counter gleaming dangerously.

He stared at the man lounging in his kitchen like he owned the place. White bangs fell into crimson eyes, pale arms crossed over a narrow chest, and a look of surprise that mirrored Matthew's own pulled at his face.

"Who are you?" Matt snarled, not letting his fear show in his tone.

"Y-you…you can see me?" Matthew heard a definite accent-German, maybe?-in the man's shocked tone.

"What do you mean, can I see you? Of course I can see you! Who are you and what are you doing in my house?" Matt lunged forward slightly, still holding the knife. The pale stranger cringed defensively.

"No need to get violent." The man held his hands up, as if to ward Matthew off. "It's just that no one's ever been able to see me before, is all."

Matthew frowned suspiciously. "Why wouldn't they be able to?"

"Well…I'm kind of a ghost."

..

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me…  
Sorry. Chapter's over, for real this time. ChiCho out!


End file.
